


Thranduil and the Dark Elf of Fangorn

by Quietbeansidhe



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Dol Guldur, F/M, Fangorn Forest, Fluff, Lothlórien, Mirkwood, Murder, Orcs, Very light smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-13
Updated: 2016-08-01
Packaged: 2018-05-13 12:50:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 61,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5708785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quietbeansidhe/pseuds/Quietbeansidhe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Isolated for the evil deeds of her uncle Maeglin back in the first age, Isobel makes her own way in life until, one day, she lands in Thranduil's dungeons, accused of a heinous crime. Thranduil lives in his own isolation, yet is drawn to this dark elf. He must prove her innocence quickly or lose the only one who sees his true self. A bit of violence and light smut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Death in the Forest

**Author's Note:**

> This would take place after the Hobbit but shortly before LOTR (I picture it right before Aragorn shows up with Gollum) Mirkwood is already quite sick and Thranduil is as taciturn as ever (but in a kind-thranduil-like way.)
> 
> This is my first fanfic so forgive my errors and please leave me comments - they help me improve.

 

Fangorn Forest wasn't an easy place for an elf. But it was beautiful and at times enchanting, provided one knew how to handle a weapon.

Isobel's father, Halir, taught her a long time ago. He was the second son of the dark elf Eöl . Eöl’s  first son, Maeglin, was infamous for betraying the elves to Morgoth. Although Isobel's adar was innocent of these deeds, he chose a life of nomadic exile rather than live amongst the scorn of the elves.

When Isobel's parents were killed by orcs in the middle of the third age, she did not plead entrance into any of the elven realms. Instead she took to the woods alone, eventually making a home in the depths of Fangorn Forest.

In Fangorn she could avoid elves and men altogether and, barring the occasional intrusion of a lost orc or spider that she quickly removed, she was alone and content, free to travel as she wished and do as she pleased.

In those times when she craved elven interaction, she would quietly hike north towards the Celebrant River to watch the march wardens of Lothlorien from a distance.

Of course she knew they were aware of her, but she never came close enough to pose a threat and require their apprehending her. She had no desire to meet the great Noldo lady who ruled this elven enclave, yet the knowledge that the wardens silently watched her as she skirted around their borders was enough to remind her that she existed outside of her own head.

She did not know that Galadriel and her Sindarin husband Celeborn were aware of this lone elf with the ebony hair and strange silver eyes. They took pity on her, both for her lack of people and for the black mark of her kin. They had long instructed their captain, Haldir, to allow her entry to Lothlorien should she ever request or require it.

And so the guards watched for her and, on the rare occasion when they caught a glimpse of Isobel moving quickly through the forest, they were entranced by her strange dark beauty and raised their hands to her in passing.

But Isobel, believing she preferred the simplicity of a solitary existence, and ignoring her loneliness, stayed away.

On this night, and in a restless state, she left the protection of Fangorn.

The trees were talking and she sensed a measure of anxiety in their green leaves. Unable to sit still, she decided to head north and find what news she could about the outside world that was affecting her beloved Fangorn.

She packed a few items to trade, should she come across a peddler of clothes and supplies. Tathorn bark to help with healing, and silver thread that she'd been given by an elven seamstress years ago. Other than those items and her weapons, she traveled light.

At night she kept to the shadows where her black hair offered her protection and she slept high above in the trees. In the day, she covered her hair with the hood of her travel cloak to better blend into the green of the forest. Even her sword was black, smithed by her grandfather - one of two swords cast from a meteorite. This sword was Anglachel, the twin of the Anguirel, once wielded by Maeglin on behalf of Morgoth.

Most said that the swords were cursed, but Isobel hoped that one day both her sword and her name would be redeemed.

She had travelled on foot for three days, when she encountered a group of orcs moving north near the edges of Lorien. Stealthily she stalked them, quietly killing those that strayed from the protection of the group even for a moment,   hoping to instill enough fear in them to dissuade any murderous intent they may have had around the elven enclave.

She silently trailed them for more than a week, keeping to the shadows, her reflexes quick and light. It was a dangerous game of cat and mouse, but she took grim satisfaction in their diminishing number. They started out at 16, now they were down to ten.

She decided to track them as far as DolGuldur, no doubt their intended destination, but she was surprised when they passed the old fortress and continued north into Mirkwood.

This gave Isobel pause. Mirkwood was home to many evil beasts, above and beyond these orcs. While she herself had sometimes been confronted with spiders and other dark creatures in Fangorn, she knew Mirkwood had a deeper sickness on it and could not understand why the orcs would travel so far into the forest, and into yet another elven realm - that of King Thranduil.

They must be spies, she reasoned. And, having killed six already, perhaps she could take care of the others before they disturbed the King's borders. It was a grim sport, but one from which she would not turn away. The more orcs she killed, the more elf attacks she prevented. It was not the life she had expected, but at least it was a life of honour.

For three more days, Isobel tracked the orc host west into the heart of Mirkwood and near the banks of the enchanted river. Two more orcs fell to her silent blade.

She knew her situation was growing precarious as the orcs were now actively hunting her, so she kept her distance, but still she followed, more convinced each day that they were set to spy on the elves of Mirkwood, and hoping to find out why. What she would do with this information she was unsure of, but it could be useful in trade to any of the elven lords.

She was crouched under a tree root, holding her breath as two orcs hiked towards her, making their way back to the group. She kept her head low, and focused on the sound of their approaching steps and heavy breathing. Quietly unsheathing both her black long sword and a shorter dagger, she waited for the right moment to pounce on the unsuspecting vile creatures. She stilled when she heard a frightened elven voice pleading amid the course rasping voices of the orcs.

She turned her head slowly as she heard the rest of the company approach from the other direction, obviously alerted by the sound of the desperate elleth in their midst.

Isobel peeked out. The elf stumbled behind the two orcs, filthy in a torn gown. Her wrists were bound and bleeding and her eyes were wide with terror.

"Where did you find it?" growled the company's leader, licking his swollen black lips. The orc leading the elleth laughed and ran his hand roughly over the elf's breasts and torso. The elleth took a step back, as the leader moved towards her, bumping into another orc. "I think she likes you," said the leader with a menacing smile. "Where are her kin?"

"There were only three – we killed one and lost the elfling. But this one we kept, she's ripe. First we play, then we'll have fresh meat tonight!"

The orcs raised their weapons in a cheer as the leader stared lecherously at the prisoner.

Isobel watched the scene, frozen in place. Instead of the face of this unknown elf, she saw the face of her mother whose attack she had witnessed so many years ago.

The sound of the elf's soft weeping brought her back to reality and it was enough.

Leaping from the shadows of her hiding place, she lunged forward and thrust her sword deep into an orc's side, and threw her dagger at a second, hitting him squarely between the eyes. She parried a blow by another orc soldier, and rebounded with a clean thrust into his throat. The three remaining orcs rushed her, weapons drawn. She raised her sword against the first one but the second quickly grabbed her waist and pulled her back into a violent embrace of submission that forced the air out of her lungs. Overwhelmed by the stench of the foul creature, she dropped her sword, and kicking and clawing at her captor, desperately tried to free herself, but to no avail.

The fight was over and Isobel had lost.

The orc forced her on her knees and bent her head down to the ground with his foot. The two orcs in front of her sheathed their weapons and smiled, their black teeth rank.

She turned her head and saw that the other elf lay dead on the forest floor. She closed her own eyes and exhaled, thinking about her parents. She was ready to accept her fate. The orc who held her felt her submission. Satisfied that she'd stopped struggling, he raised her back onto her feet.

"Well done boys! We'll cook the dead one and keep this one for fun," said the orc leader leering at her. Suddenly his smile froze and his eyes widened. His partner looked at him in confusion and even the orc holding Isobel loosened his grip a fraction. The leader fell heavily forward on to the forest floor, an elven arrow lodged in the back of his neck. Hope surged through Isobel. Frightened for his own life, her captor let go and Isobel fell back to the ground, amongst a flurry of arrows, swords and orc war cries.

Keeping her head down, she rolled towards the cover of the trees, but a pair of strong arms grabbed her. "Not so fast, you're going nowhere," said a deep voice.

She looked up into a pair of steely blue eyes and almost cried with relief as he pulled her to her shaking feet. But this was no savior. To her surprise, the elf held her arms tightly behind her, in the same manner the orc had only a moment before. This time she did not struggle. She looked at the scene in front of her, trying to make sense of it. Two more orcs lay dead. Six guards surrounded the one remaining orc, the one who had held her prisoner, and bound his hands and arms, while two more were gently lifting the body of the dead elleth. Beside her corpse lay Isobel's black sword. The captain thoughtfully picked it up. He looked carefully at the hilt, flipping it over in his hand, then slowly turned to his face towards Isobel, who was taken aback by the hatred in his eyes.

Had an orc used her blade to kill the elf? she wondered. Her stomach sank as the captain's look registered in her mind. Surely he doesn't think…

"Bind her and blindfold her, NOW," said the captain.

"No!" she pleaded. "I didn't kill her, I was trying to save her!" She struggled against the elf who held her but his grip was sure. Suddenly the orc, now blindfolded, started to laugh.

"The dark elf killed 'er alright. In league with the Dark Lord she is…"

Isobel's eyes grew wide with alarm as the elves' faces stared at her with disgust and hatred. She froze as she realized that, from the elves' perspective, the orc's accusation looked incredibly convincing.

"It is not true," she said to the captain, her voice rising. "Surely you would not believe an orc over one of your own kind!"

"A dark elf, whose family has a history of helping the Enemy? I know who you are, and no kin of Maeglin is 'one of our own kind'." The captain locked eyes with the guard who held her. "Bind her and gag her if she won't stop talking."

Isobel opened her mouth to protest, but thought better of it and remained silent as they bound and blindfolded her. 'Do not panic' she repeated in her in mind, over and over again, as she began to walk, blindly making her way over tree roots and divots, listening to the grunts of the orc being led a few paces behind her. Do not panic, it will resolve in time, do not panic.

* * *

 

Isobel walked onwards in blackness, although her keen hearing and sense of touch helped her to remain upright. Her captors were not cruelly harsh, but they were no more kind to her than to the unlucky orc who blindly followed behind her.

She knew they were leading them to King Thranduil's Halls and, after seven hours of walking, she found herself flagging. The adrenaline rush of her own battle with the orcs had long departed and left in its wake a wave of sheer exhaustion.

She stumbled frequently, although the elves kept her on her feet. Despite her dread at facing more of the King's guard, she found herself wishing for the journey to be over and almost welcomed the idea of a prison bed.

Behind her the orc was equally silent – or as silent as was possible for an orc. She tried to ignore the sound of his heavy breathing, and the feces-liked scent of his sweat kept her moving, lest she slow down and he walk into her.

The elves around her walked silently, saying nothing the prisoners could hear. Isobel knew they must be speaking telepathically.

She felt the air lighten and, above the foul smell of the other prisoner, she picked up the fresh scent of blue water. The path evened out and she heard the roar of a fast-moving river below her and the mist of it cooled her face.

Suddenly the sound of the river and the damp cool of the forest faded away and the air was warm and still.

She heard voices around her and had to assume that she had entered King Thranduil's Halls. Behind her the orc grew restless and the elves shouted as they struggled to contain him.

"Take the orc to the deeper cavern, Feren," instructed a strong masculine voice. "And the elleth…take her to the river hold for now."

The elves led Isobel down a flight of stairs. She knew she was being led down into a cavern and she could hear the sound of a small river rushing down rocks beside the staircase, and evening out along the stone pathway. Finally, she heard a door swing open and the elves removed the blindfold.

She blinked as her eyes adjusted the dim light of her hold. It was a small grotto with a bed in one corner and a desk with a basin and ewer in the other. A small privy off to the side offered privacy. The door was a silver grate and an amber lantern filled the room with a reassuring glow. Compared to sleeping in the woods, it was comfortable enough, although she had no idea what to expect. She only knew that she had to clear up this mess as soon as possible. "Please, I must speak with the Captain!" She turned look at the guards, but they ignored her question.

"We will bring you food and blankets. Here you will bide your time until the King wishes to question you," said the female elf curtly. Her long red hair and freckles gave her a girlish look, but her arms were muscular and her look fierce.

"And the orc?" Isobel asked, and could have kicked herself for the stupidity of asking over him.

"Concerned for your company are you? I doubt he is concerned for you. You should worry for yourself."

"No, I only wish to know…if..the King….if he…"

"Executes his prisoners?" Feren finished for her. Isobel nodded.

"Your family has lived so long in the Enemy's shadow that you have forgotten the honour of elven ways," Feren said, his lip curled in disgust.

Isobel blinked at the insult and glared back at Feren. "Shows what you know," she said quietly as the two guards removed her ropes with detached faces, then quickly closed the grate, locked it, and made their way back up the stairs without looking back

* * *

 

"Has their kin been notified?" King Thranduil asked Feren, captain of his march wardens, who stood before him now.

Feren stood still, watching his King pace back and forth in front of the hearth of his private office.

Thranduil's face, normally taciturn, was stamped with concern and sadness. Feren knew that his King grieved deeply at such loss and he cast his eyes down respectfully.

"Tauriel has been dispatched, my lord. She will be with the family now."

Thranduil nodded grimly. "What else did the orc tell you?"

"He claims they came upon the family 'wandering' in the forest outside of our borders. We think they were teaching their daughter to hunt near Alvath's Pools. The husband fought to protect his family but was killed at the scene, and they took the wife. Of the elfling, we found nothing. She seems to have disappeared into the forest, my lord. The orc said they searched for her but quickly gave up. We continue searching and messages have been sent even to the outlying posts."

Thranduil's brow furrowed. He knew it was unlikely that an unprotected elfling would survive in the forest overnight. "And what of the other elf you found?"

"She was at the scene. We believe it was her blade that slew the elleth."

"And did you see this happen?"

"We did not, my lord. When we came upon them, she was on the ground in front of an orc. We are not sure if the orc was holding her down or helping her up. I found Anglachel myself. It was beside the body and covered in elf blood."

The King blinked in surprise. "Did you indeed? Up until today it was believed that blade was melted down and reforged in Nargothrond, but even if it survived, it carries malice. I remember it's look, black as galvorn, it brought much grief to my kin in Doriath. But still..." The King frowned and bowed his head, deep in thought. "Is it not possible that the orcs captured the dark elleth and used this sword to kill the other?"

Feren shook his head. "The orc himself said that the niece of Maeglin was one of them. That she is in the service of the Enemy, as was her uncle before her."

Thranduil looked up at Feren impatiently. "I am aware of her uncle, Feren. I also knew her father. They were very different elves. One was as evil as the other was honourable. You may be correct, but do not trust the word of an orc. Let her eat and sleep tonight. Tomorrow you will bring her to me and I will question her myself. For now, focus on finding that elfing, that one life may be spared."

"Yes, sire." Feren nodded and departed, his step fluid and light.

Thranduil turned towards the hearth. It was lit with a warm fire to dispel the autumn chill and offered welcome comfort.

He had known Eöl's son Halir. Other than his dark looks, Halir did not carry his brother's true darkness. He knew of this elf maiden too. He and Celeborn had talked of Isobel before and agreed that, should she request sanctuary in either of their realms, they would allow her entry. But with his Halls so far north compared to Lothlorien, he never expected to hear of her again, let alone find her in his dungeons accused of the worst crime possible.

He sat down on the sofa and lifted a glass of wine to his lips, considering all he knew of this elleth. She had continued to live alone in Fangorn after her own parents had been brutally killed by orcs. He knew the march wardens of Lothlorien kept an eye on her when she travelled north, and even Celeborn had remarked on her strange beauty. He said that his guards often spoke of her and, should she request admittance to Lothlorien, there would be competition as to whom should take her to wife.

Thranduil shook his head. It made little sense that, having lost so much because of the Enemy, she would toil in his service, yet that elf's blood was on her sword, and evil could run deep through family bloodlines; skipping one generation only to rear its head with the next.

As much as he hated to think it, he knew Feren was correct. This was a heinous crime and, until they knew more, the assumption of innocence was simply too high a risk to take. Isobel would remain in his dungeons.

* * *

 

The next day, Isobel sat on a blanket on the floor beside the wrought silver door, watching the river as it tumbled down into the cavern and flowed through the middle of the massive hall, crisscrossed by wooden bridges. In this odd light, the river looked black except where it frothed white where the current met obstacles in its path. There was a slight breeze throughout the cavern that kept the damp at bay, and she thought it was odd to be so deep underground, yet breathe air that was light and fresh.

She had eaten well and slept uninterrupted, and the guards had provided her with hot water, a brush and even a change of clothes. Overall she felt better, although she missed the sunlight and the trees. She sighed and kept her eyes on the river; watching the moving water was a comfort.

The only elves she saw were guards and, to her relief, they ignored her. She rested her head against the cool stone wall and closed her eyes.

"Mistress Isobel. The King wishes to see you now."

Isobel's eyes flew open and she looked up to see Feren and Tauriel standing in front of her. Feren was unlocking the silver grate.

Isobel rose to her feet, almost tripping on her green gown – unused to wearing anything but hunter’s leathers - and nervously smoothed her hair.

As Tauriel bound Isobel's hands, Feren held the door open for them to pass. She was relieved that they did not blindfold her this time, but she resisted the temptation to look around, opting to stare straight ahead with stony countenance.

Feren led them up through hallways lit either by sunbeams that filtered through the skylights of this vast dwelling or by warm amber lanterns that cast a calm and unearthly glow into the long halls and curtained alcoves they passed.

They turned into a massive cavern supported by giant stone pillars carved to look like ancient beech trees. Dark underground rivers tumbled down granite shelves, and like the one that flowed by her dungeon door, they were intersected by walkways and bridges.

Where the sun’s rays could not penetrate, the cavern was lit by immense hanging lanterns. Isobel could smell earth, stone, and a soft citrus fragrance that rose from the woodland flowers that grew on the mossy floor of the cavern beneath them. In the centre of the room was a dais where sat an immense oak throne.

Elves hurried along the walkways carrying baskets of food and supplies and leather folders with birch bark scrolls peeking out the sides.

Those she passed were without exception, she noted, beautiful.

Many wore silk robes and gowns, and their shining hair hung freely down their backs or were pulled back into elaborate braids. Others dressed more simply but even their clothes were fine, although lacking the intricate ornamentation of the higher-ranked elves.

She resisted the urge to stare and made a conscious effort to breathe normally. Although Isobel occasionally visited outdoor markets to barter for clothes and food, she avoided cities like this and the energy that pulsed through the cavern unnerved her.

The elves, in turn, watched Isobel as she passed. Word had spread that the strange dark haired elf was in the kingdom, accused of a terrible crime, and they looked at her with suspicion and fear as she walked between Tauriel and Feren. She heard whispers of words around her like 'dark family' and 'evil history.'

For the benefit of those who studied her, she tried her best to appear impassive, almost regal, and she focused silver eyes steadily ahead of her, raising her chin a fraction. Let them think her proud, haughty and utterly unconcerned. She was determined to act more a Sinda princess than a wild elleth living alone in a remote outpost. She wondered if the older elves who looked at her only remembered her grandfather Eol, of which she had never felt shame; or if they thought about her uncle Maeglin, of which she was thoroughly ashamed. If only they had known my father, she thought. Then they would judge me better.

Cool mist from the streams below settled on her arms, and she broke out in goosebumps. Despite her outward composure, a shiver of fear passed through her.

"Do not fear," said Tauriel, correctly interpreting the reason for her tremor. Her face remained impassive as she talked and her eyes straight ahead. "Our King is just."

They reached the centre of the cavern. Isobel's sharp woodland eyes took in the two guards standing at either side of the staircase that led up to the dais. These guards were for more than show, they were fully armed with both long swords and daggers and their golden armor shone in the orange light. Her gaze shifted to the right of the throne, where stood the Elven King, Thranduil.

 


	2. Aftermath

Thranduil stood tall in a deep red brocade robe and his long silver hair gleamed in the warm light. On his head he wore a silver circlet encrusted with white stones and emerald leaves.

He was breathtakingly handsome, but his beauty barely concealed an unpredictable ferocity and hardness of spirit, palpable even at a distance.

He was reading a scroll that he handed back to a dark robed elf standing nervously in front of him. With a wave of the King's hand, the elf departed, and Thranduil turned to look at Isobel.

His clear blue eyes flicked over her, taking in her borrowed gown, her long black braid and her tense, skittish stance. His gaze finally settled on her face.

Feren stepped forward. "Isobel of the House of Eöl. Daughter of Halir."

Thranduil did not react, save for a single raised eyebrow.

Rather than the expected curtsy, Isobel stood straight and still like a rod of iron, her chin slightly raised.

"Why so tense, Isobel? You have been fed and well treated. I knew your father. He was honourable," said the King. He looked over to Feren. "Unbind her," he said, and Feren stepped forward and untied her ropes.

Isobel exhaled and rubbed her wrists, although the elven ropes had not really hurt her. She relaxed her shoulders slightly, finally surrendering a small curtsy. The King nodded graciously.

"I understand you were engaged with a host of orcs along my borders. What will you tell me of that?" His intense gaze did not wander from her face.

Isobel stared at him for a moment, her head slightly tilted as she tried to read him. Then, attuned to the smallest sounds of the forest, she sensed the movement of one of the guards. Her eyes snapped to the side and she tensed. But the guard stood still. It was a moment before she exhaled and focused her attention back on the King.

Thranduil's eyebrow twitched, but he did not blink; he watched and waited.

Isobel took a deep breath and began. "I tracked them up through Lorien, and I took out eight of them. I was trying to ascertain their purpose and frighten them so they'd leave the forest."

"And then what did you plan to do?"

"Return to Fangorn."

"Not offer to sell me information?" he said archly.

Isobel remained quiet but met the King's eyes in silent challenge.

"And who else would you have sold this information to, if not to me?"

Still she remained silent, but her cheeks burned with shame that the King had seen through her so quickly.

"So you trespass onto my land, hoping to sell me information as though I am not already aware of every leaf that falls in my forest?"

The King waited for an answer, and when the silence grew, he chose a different tact.

"It is odd," he noted, a hint of irritation creeping into his voice, "that an elleth lives alone as you do, concealment and isolation your only protection." He tilted his head, considering her. "Only to find herself travelling with a host of orcs. Perhaps you are protected by those who protected your uncle?" he mused.

Finally Isobel spoke up. "I was not 'traveling' with them, i hîr nîn . I was trying to kill them. By the time your guard found me, the orcs were hunting me."

Thranduil looked unconvinced. "And what of the elf slain in your presence?"

Isobel flinched at the memory of the elleth's lifeless eyes staring at her. "I tried to save her. I saw them with her and she was alive. They were talking about…about what they were going to do to her, and I couldn't listen. I had to stop them, so I revealed myself. I slew two orcs before I was overcome and dropped my sword. Once they grabbed me, it is a blur. Next thing I was on the ground and I turned my head and saw her, dead. I thought they would kill me too but your guard found us."

"And where were you before you so gallantly leapt to the elf's defense?"

"Hiding in the thicket, my lord. Waiting to ambush them, one by one, as I had been doing since before Lorien."

The king smirked. "I see. Allow me to get this straight: Instead of leading a band of orcs to my borders – even though your family has been in league with the enemy before, and instead of killing an innocent family - despite the blood on your sword, and instead of swearing allegiance to the dark Lord –despite the orc swearing you have, you would have me believe that you are merely an innocent elf who wandered from home and accidentally landed in my dungeons?" The King levelled a fearsome look on Isobel. His blue eyes flashed with anger and accusation.

Isobel's face fell. The answer was ‘yes’, but Thranduil was twisting her situation. She looked up at him pleadingly, her silver eyes frightened. "For what gain, my lord? I did not lead them; I followed them! I did not kill that elf; I tried to help her!"

The King was unmoved and his face betrayed nothing. He looked at her through narrowed eyes. "So you say. I would not trust the word of an orc, but I must consider your family. For what gain did your uncle betray Gondolin? For glory, power and revenge. It doesn't take much, dark elf. How do I know that you are not in service to the Enemy as your uncle once was?"

Isobel's emotion graduated from fear to anger. Her eyes flashed dangerously as she sensed the king's questions closing in on her. The stress of the situation and the frustration at Thranduil's interrogation began to overcome her. She felt the overwhelming presence of the guards standing beside her - and the many eyes in the cavern focused on her - and her hackles rose. She widened her stance; instinctively and unconsciously battle ready.

Thranduil took in this change with unveiled interest. As his questions chipped away at her composure, he was uncovering a core of brazen strength within her, but he sensed no darkness. Indignation radiated from her like waves of light and he tilted his head to look at her more closely.

This exotic elleth was the most feral creature he had ever seen, and although he would slay her before he allowed her to leave without sufficient proof of her innocence, he was intrigued. He turned his head slightly to view her from another angle, and a small smile played on his lips.

But Isobel was oblivious to the Elvenking's subtleties. "I am no servant of evil," she said through clenched teeth. If he had been closer, she would have lunged at him.

Thranduil continued to stare, carefully taking her measure. Not accustomed to living with others, this elf maiden did little to conceal her thoughts and Thranduil found he could read her quite easily. He noticed a slight tremble in her hands. Ah, so not entirely battle ready after all.

Thranduil lifted his chin, his eyes thoughtfully assessing, and in a sudden and powerful rush of motion, he closed the distance between them and stood in front of her. His seven-foot frame was powerfully built and towered over Isobel's lithe form.

Isobel closed her eyes in an involuntary flinch, but held her ground, suppressing the instinct to recoil. He looked down into her face, his eyes searching hers for truth.

"I do not tolerate spies or murderers in my kingdom," he said quietly.

She released the breath she hadn't realized she was holding. She could smell sandalwood and pine on his hair and another, more earthen, scent. Floral, yet undeniably masculine. The intensity of his blue eyes was too much. She turned her head and looked down.

"I am no spy and I did not kill those elves," she whispered so quietly that only he caught it.

He exhaled through his nose, his mouth remained firm as walked back towards his throne.

Isobel's heart pounded and her cheeks flushed in a confusing mix of shame, embarrassment and anger.

He suddenly turned to face her. "You waste my time!" he yelled and Isobel shuddered as his powerful voice rang out and echoed in the cavern. "I will ask you one last time: Whom. Do. You. Serve?"

She straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin, determined not to let him break her. "I do not serve the Enemy! If you do not trust me, then let me leave, and I will never bother you again!" Her voice rose and she stepped forward.

One of the guards lifted his arm to restrain her. Her control snapped. She flew around and grabbed his arm, trying to force it up and push him back, but she was no match for Thranduil's well-trained host and, within moments, the guard had her on her knees.

His one hand held Isobel's hands behind her, his other hand pressed hard against the back of her neck, holding her head forward. Her hair had escaped its coils and her silver grey eyes were wide with panic and fury. Tears ran down her cheeks as she strained away from the guard.

Thranduil had not moved throughout the exchange, his face registered first surprise then shifted to interest. Seeing her on her knees on the floor of his throne room, witnessing her stubborn and unbridled ferocity, and taking in her wild silvery eyes and ebony hair, he was filled with an overwhelming desire to possess her. To force her surrender.

He checked himself. This was madness. He wasn't sure if he should be amused at his own reaction or disgusted. To think of taking a prisoner… He stepped towards her, and she looked up. The full force of her defiant yet tear-filled eyes fell on his face, and something within him shifted.

The guard stared at his king, waiting for a signal for how to proceed with the black-haired elleth he held in his iron grasp, but the king did not look at him; instead Thranduil's eyes locked with her’s until she finally bowed her head in defeat.

The King blinked and raised his chin, motioning to the guard that it was time to loosen his hold and let Isobel stand. The point had been made.

"You are like your grandfather," the King said in a hard tone before turning away. "We will continue this conversation later."

The guard gently hoisted her up and released her arms. Her body trembled from the adrenaline that coursed through her. As she eased her weight back to her legs, she felt a wave of dizziness overtake her.

She stumbled, but instantly righted herself and stood tall. The guard stood back as Feren and Tauriel stepped up to escort her back to her cell.

"I am not like my grandfather," she said silently as the elves lead her out of the cavern.

Back on the dais, the King's eyes flew open with surprise as he heard her voice speak to him. "We shall see," he said silently in return.

Isobel stumbled in shock when she heard Thranduil's response inside her head, and Tauriel tightened her grip to keep her from falling. Isobel righted herself and turned to look back at the King who was now in conversation with a messenger who had entered the dais.

Her mind reeled and her body trembled as Feren and Tauriel led her back to her chamber and, where she had resisted their touch before, captors that they were, now she willingly leaned on them.

"Tauriel – send for a tonic to help her recover herself," Feren instructed, as he deposited Isobel in her chamber. The moment he closed her silver grate, she fell on the small bed and, covering her head with her blanket, cried herself to sleep.

* * *

 

Feren held his short blade against the Orc's throat with a strong, steady hand.

Thranduil sighed. They had been questioning this filthy, rancid-smelling creature for over an hour now and had learnt nothing they didn't already know. The orcs had, of course, been sent on a spying mission to learn of the defenses of all the kingdoms in Rhovanion.

On the subject of Isobel, the orc would not give straight answers, only say that the Enemy knew her as well as the Enemy had known her uncle. Yet when pressed, the orc fell silent.

Increasingly Thranduil's judgement was leaning towards the dark elf's innocence, but the risk was too great to release her without sufficient proof, thus his interrogation persisted long after the point in which he'd normally have executed the orc.

"Take him back to his cell, Feren," Thranduil commanded, "and fetch Tira. Tell her to meet me in my private office."

* * *

 

Ten minutes later Thranduil was in his private office, looking hard at Tira, who stood in front of him. She was his main advisor and the realm's seer.

"The threat grows in my realm Tira. Since when would orcs dare come so close to my borders? And to spy, no less. The enemy is building. He will move against us, it is only a matter of time. It's a pity Feren didn't leave more alive for us to question. Only one orc and that dark elleth."

"Do you believe she knows more than she says?" asked Tira.

Thranduil quickly stood up and crossed the room to look out over the balcony, his hands clasped behind his back. His clear blue eyes scanned the trees for a few thoughtful moments, then he turned back to face Tira directly.

"I do not know, Tirathuil. Her face says she tells the truth and the orc is inconsistent, but there is a darkness in her family. It drove her grandfather mad and her uncle...well...evil indeed. It is hard to know where her loyalties lie. Morgoth's vassals have ever walked Arda in many forms. All of them tricksters. In time she will reveal herself, but until then, she will have to remain my prisoner."

"I think you judge harshly, my Lord King. We have long known of this elf and her ways, and she has never posed a threat to Lorien or Mirkwood. Do not forget that she is of noble Sindar family too. The Teleri have always been true and it is partly her strangeness both in looks and behavior that cause elves to question her loyalty."

Thranduil exhaled with irritation, so little was he used to defiance. But his eyes slightly softened when he looked at Tira, who he had known his many years in Greenwood the Great. He returned to the issue at hand.

"If I release her and I am wrong, what then? Will she remain here only to one day betray us and watch our kingdom fall to ruin as her uncle did in Gondolin? Or if I let her leave, will she run to the Enemy and report on our ways and our defenses?" He paused for a heartbeat. "The sickness of the forest encroaches on our borders," he said quietly. "Each year it becomes harder to fortify our lands. Her arrival in Mirkwood is a message of some kind, but I cannot yet ascertain what that message is."

Tira stood for a moment, hesitating. Thranduil raised his eyebrows to her and she finally asked her question. "Do you feel a connection to her, my lord?"

Thranduil hesitated, exploring the question in his head before he answered aloud. "There is a connection," he admitted, remembering Isobel's voice in his head. Thranduil had learnt at a young age to guard his thoughts from other elves, and only the woodland animals of his realm could speak to him inside his mind, as Isobel had today. "I feel that her fate is connected to the fate of the forest."

His face relaxed as it always did when he thought about the trees and animals, and he spoke slowly and quietly. "Despite the dark circumstance that surrounds her arrival, she radiates the wild and beautiful spark that lights the forest in the day and fills it with hope in the night."

"My lord, as the King of the Woodland Realm, you are the forest. It is you she fills with hope."

Thranduil felt his stomach jump, but his face betrayed nothing. He quickly turned his back to Tira and paced towards the balcony. His stared at the massive beech trees as he spoke. "We must find proof of her innocence. The accusations are too serious to treat her gently, and the risk to my kingdom should she leave is too high." He waved his hand towards her. "You may withdraw."

Tira nodded her acceptance and rose to leave. She glanced back at her King and paused to watch him for a moment.

He had the tall frame, broad shoulders and sinewy strength befitting the legendary warrior he was. The sunlight played off his high cheekbones, his features straight and sharp. His full lips were set in a hard line as he scanned the dark green canopy in front of him, lost in thought. He had a way of moving gracefully but with severe determination. Few had the courage to oppose him.

But Tira was older than Thranduil Oropherion and remembered him as a young prince. Before the drakes that Morgoth unleashed in the War of the Wrath had marred his face and hardened his spirit. Before the loss of his elven queen in Gundabad extinguished those early sparks of happiness.

Now Thranduil lived only for his son and for his kingdom. To protect his elves and his forest.

But she remembered the young King as he had once been. Passionate and wise. Adventurous and joyful. Thranduil worked hard to keep his emotions buried but Tira knew that his still waters ran deep and that, despite his unyielding manner, he felt things keenly.

"Tira, if you feel you have looked long enough, you may take your leave." He spoke without looking back.

Tira smiled. "Of course, my Lord Thranduil. I bid you good afternoon."

Thranduil continued looking out into the day, and a small smile settled on his lips.

* * *

 

The next few weeks passed slowly for Isobel. Each day, she sat listless in her cell, thinking about her home in Fangorn and missing her forest.

Sometimes she sat on the floor by the door and watched the river, other times she sat curled on the bed staring at the wall. The elves brought her food and wine, but she ate little, and she grew thin and pale.

Feren was aware that his King favoured the idea of her innocence and his guards toiled day and night to locate the young elfling who had escaped the attack so they could return her to her kin, and in hope that she could provide the proof that the King needed to release Isobel.

But with every day that passed, hope for the elfling faded and Isobel retreated more into herself. Although the elves did not speak to her more than was necessary, they often threw her worried looks.

For her own part, Isobel looked back to her audience with the King with regret. Far from showing how different she was from her uncle, she had blown up at the King and attacked his guard. She cringed at the memory and longed for another chance to meet with him, to show him she was not what he suspected and perhaps convince him to let her go. But as each day melted into the next, the chance did not come and her spirits waned.

One day, as she made her way from her privy back to her bed, she pierced her foot on a sharp stone that had fallen from one of the finely carved arches of her cell. She picked up the stone thoughtfully and traced a chalky circle around the drop of blood that had dripped from the cut.

She paused, considering. She turned her eyes to the smooth stone walls of her cell and, with sudden inspiration, began to sketch her foot on the floor, testing the consistency of the stone's markings. She scanned the ground for more pieces of stone and once she had collected a small stash, began to sketch her home in Fangorn on the wall by her bed.

Over the next few weeks, she sketched the forest animals, the rivers around Lorien that she knew so well, and even the faces of the guards who brought her meals.

The guards quietly left small pieces of different coloured stone she could use and, when the walls were full of chalky tapestries, they brought her canvas, paint and brushes.

Soon the hall outside her cell door was piled with landscapes, portraits of her family, images of Lorien's silver-haired march warden and even one painting of a beautiful dead elf laying on the forest floor, her lifeless eyes peering out of the canvas.

"That is morbid, yet beautiful," said Tauriel one day, holding up the painting.

"I paint the life that I see, and death is a part of life too," Isobel walked to the door of her cell to look at the canvas.

"Did you paint in Fangorn?"

Isobel shook her head. "I sketched, but I never had the supplies to paint."

Tauriel was about to say something, but looked across the river to where Feren stood watching and thought better of it. She put the canvas down and quickly walked away.

Feren walked across the bridge and gathered the latest pile of completed canvasses that the guards had lain on the floor outside Isobel's cell to dry.

He had taken to storing them in his own chambers. If Isobel was found innocent, he reasoned, he would return them to her. If she was found guilty, he could quietly destroy them.

Feren was carrying the canvasses down an interior hallway when he came across the King who was on his way to check some military sketches.

"Ah, Feren," Thranduil said as the two elves stopped to face each other.

Feren awkwardly nodded over the canvasses he held. "My lord."

"Those look a bit colourful to be the military sketches I'm after," said Thranduil, leaning over to get a closer look.

"No, my lord, they are paintings. Your prisoner has turned to art to pass the time."

Thranduil raised his brows. "How interesting. I should like to see them. Come in here, Feren." Thranduil ushered Feren into an empty alcove and pulled the curtain behind them. Feren placed the canvasses on a small table and stood back, giving the King space to look at them. The King went through each canvass, pausing and taking in the detail and precision of Isobel's work.

"She really is most talented," he murmured to himself as he browsed through portraits of each of his guards (including one of Feren that Thranduil insisted on holding up to him to compare the likeness). But the King stilled when he came across his own face.

Instead of the grandiose throne room portraits with which he was often presented, this showed him sitting in the forest wearing hunting leathers. He wore no crown. His hair was braided back in warrior braids and he was laughing.

He inhaled sharply; the faded burn on the side of his face was clearly visible, yet he kept this scar hidden at all times. How could she have known? It was the truest portrait of himself he'd ever seen and he was shocked to find his eyes filled with tears that he quickly blinked away.

He rolled up the canvas and turned to Feren. "Give me the keys to her cell."

Feren hesitated for a moment, and his mouth fell open at this unorthodox request. In all his years serving Thranduil, he could not even remember the King entering the river hold. He belatedly registered the King's glare and handed him the keys.

Thranduil briskly made his way to Isobel's cell, followed closely by Feren. Half way down the stairs, the King turned around. "Please leave me."

"But my lord," protested the King's captain, "She is a prisoner, it would not be safe."

Thranduil inhaled and said with exaggerated patience, "I am the most skilled warrior in Middle-earth. I think I should be safe alone with a single elf maiden." He raised his brow in challenge.

Feren nodded and quickly turned back up the stairs without a second glance.

Thranduil shook his head and calmly made his way to Isobel's cell.

When he arrived, she was sitting on her bed, her knees curled to her chest, leaning against the wall and staring into space. She did not blink at his arrival, she did not even look at him.

He was shocked at her appearance. She had lost weight and, though naturally pale, her complexion was wraith-like. He unlocked the grate and finally Isobel looked over. Her eyes widened in surprise, but she did not move as Thranduil entered her cell, grabbed the chair by the desk, pulled it up to the bed, and sat down.

Slowly she turned around and placed her feet on the floor so they faced each other, knee to knee.

He unrolled the canvas. "What is this?" he asked.

"It is a painting, i hîr nîn," she replied dryly, her eyes fixed on the floor.

"By why this?" he persisted, moving the canvas closer to her. She did not move, nor did she did look up.

"If you do not like it, destroy it. It is of little difference."

The King exhaled in exasperation. "Isobel, how did you know I have a scar?" he asked, lowering the painting. "Nobody can see it."

Isobel finally looked up at Thranduil. He was wearing a silver brocade tunic and his blond hair gleamed in the orange light of her cell. His blue eyes looked searchingly at her, and his mouth was slightly open as he waited for her answer.

Her stomach jumped and her heart quickened with his stare. He was as close to her as he'd been when he'd confronted her in the throne room. Her eyes traced the contours of his cheek and nose, they paused briefly on his mouth, and then fell openly on his scarred left cheek.

His own eyes followed hers, amazed that she could see this ancient wound, see the part of his spirit that would never heal.

She reached out her hand to touch the scar and he grabbed her arm. She pulled back in surprise and he jerked her back towards him. "Answer me," he demanded in a low voice.

"I didn't at first, but when you stood close to me on the dais, after that I could see it." He eyes lowered to the painting now sitting in the King's lap. "The painting is just…just how I see you."

'Do you see it now?' he asked silently, speaking to her inside her mind.

"Yes," she whispered aloud.

He suddenly dropped her arm as though it stung him and stood up, flexing his hand. He turned and looked at the walls of the cell, staring with wonder at the drawings, then his eyes returned to Isobel who sat perfectly still, watching him.

"I know how it feels to live alone," she said quietly. "It is not just you."

"I did not ask you to speak." He fixed his steady gaze on Isobel's wan face. She was pale but her silver eyes were brilliant in contrast with her ebony hair.

His heart raced and he felt a tide of anxiety surge through his limbs. His emotional barriers, normally so durable, wavered in front of Isobel, and he was suddenly and overwhelmingly uncomfortable. He could not stand still.

He drew himself up to full height and held his shoulders back, flicking his hair out of his face. He tilted his chin up as he retreated back to a place of practiced refuge. He was once more the King; she but a subject. And he took care of all his subjects.

"You are too thin. I heard you don't eat. We will move you from this cell immediately. You need light." He left the cell, closing the door behind him but not locking it.

She watched in open-mouthed surprise and hopeful confusion as he talked to Tauriel and left up the stairs. Tauriel hurried over to her cell.

"The King has asked me to take you to an upper chamber where you will remain. It is attached to a private courtyard so that you may paint outdoors," she added. "I will take you there now, are you ready?"

Isobel nodded and as the red-haired elf held her wrists – no tie this time - and silently they walked through the caverns to Isobel's new chambers.


	3. A Visitor

Four weeks after Isobel's arrival in King Thanduil's Halls, a messenger from Lorien arrived on horseback. Feren led him into Thranduil's cavernous throne room where the King, standing beside Tira with whom he had been conferring, gracefully received him. "What news do you have for me?"

"Haldir of Lorien travels with an elfling of Mirkwood who wandered into our realm one week past. The lady has given her food and rest and now sends her back to her kin. This young one has witnessed the loss of her adar and naneth and the Lady would like to see her reunited with her remaining family. Haldir travels with a host of three and they should arrive tomorrow." The messenger offered a deep bow.

"What is your name?"

"Feircu," he replied.

"Hannon le, Feircu of Lorien, please allow my guard to give you food and rest until your company arrives."

The messenger bowed again and was met by one of the guards who led him off the dais.

Thranduil looked to Tira. "It seems we will know Isobel's fate sooner than later," he said, ignoring the frisson of tension in his stomach. "I would like you there when we question the elfling. It may make it easier for her."

Tira nodded her assent and the two turned back to their earlier conversation.

* * *

 

In the courtyard off her private chamber, Isobel laid down in the grass and warmed her face in the autumn sunlight. She ignored the chill of the earth through her thin gown, so happy was she to look up and see a blue sky. The air held the scent of falling leaves and beech nuts that lay over-ripe on the forest floor.

If she were in Fangorn, she would be off foraging as many beechnuts as she could to store in her little cottage over winter. In the corner of the courtyard stood an easel, with a half-painted elk gracing its canvas. Someone cleared their throat.

Isobel's eyes flew open. She rolled onto her elbow to see who was there and quickly rose.

"Master Feren," she said, surprised to see him.

Feren nodded. "The King sent me."

"Oh?"

"A visitor will arrive shortly from Lorien, someone who witnessed the orc attacks. We expect this witness will speak to your role in it."

"Or lack thereof," Isobel corrected.

"Or lack thereof," Feren amended with nod. "But before they arrive, the King wants to know if there is  anything you wish to share. Anything else that you wish to say..."

"As in 'do I wish to change my story?'" She shook her head emphatically. "No. There is nothing else to say, Feren. I have spoken only the truth, I stand by my earlier statement."

Feren nodded and turned to go, but hesitated. Looking back at her he said "I hope it goes well, Isobel. Truly." With an embarrassed nod, he stepped inside, leaving her in the sunlight staring after him.

A ray of hope filled her chest and she exhaled, wondering whether this witness' account would be enough to have the King release her.

"Please Eru, please let it be enough."

* * *

 

Haldir's small host stood at the edge of the great stone bridge that crossed the enchanted river, the gateway to Thranduil's domain.

Feren happily waited as Haldir, riding with the elfling in front of him, crossed the bridge followed by three more horsemen.

"Mae govannen, Haldir of Lorien!" Feren shouted.

Haldir disembarked and carefully stood the elfing on the ground, then grabbed Haldir's wrist in a warrior's handshake. "Mae govannen, Feren of The Woodland Realm. It is good to see you!" The old friends grinned at each other for a moment, then Haldir gestured towards the young elfling. "This is Amdir."

Amdir shyly looked up at Feren and nervously moved closer to Haldir. With a grin, Haldir scooped her up in his arms and he and his men followed Feren through the big stone doors and down into the Thranduil's Halls for something to eat before meeting the King.

* * *

 

Rather than questioning the child on the dais, Thranduil had thoughtfully organized the questioning to happen in his private office before its comforting fireplace.

His two sofas and plush velvet chairs were arranged cozily around the fire and snacks and food were laid out for both the little one and Haldir.

When the guard announced the arrival of Haldir, Feren and Amdir, Thranduil rose to greet them.

"Mae govannen, Haldir. I am most relieved to see you here, safe in my halls. And you, little one," said Thranduil, his face softening as he addressed the little elleth peeking out from behind Haldir's legs. "A very warm welcome to you."

The elleth offered a shy smile, her clear blue eyes fell on Thranduil's face, and then on the food laid out on the coffee table by the fireplace.

"Are you hungry, Amdir?" Thranduil asked her kindly and smiled as the little elf nodded. "Then take my hand and I will lead you to your very own feast." He put his hand out the little girl grasped it, letting him lead her towards the fireplace.

Haldir threw Feren a surprised glance, and Feren shrugged. Being the King's captain, Feren knew the many sides of Thranduil Oropherion, but outsiders were always astonished.

Behind Halidr and Feren, Tira entered the room. A smile crept across her face as she saw Thranduil sitting on the sofa with the little girl beside him.

The elfling sat munching on fresh bread and strawberries, her plate on her lap, leaning comfortably against the King. Thranduil raised his eyes in challenge to any who dared say a word. The trio remained silent.

"Please," said Thranduil, "Do takes your seats. I think that this little one might have much to tell us." When the three elves had sat down, Thranduil began.

"Amdir," he said. "A terrible thing happened the other week to your adar and naneth. Do you remember it?" he asked gently. The little elf nodded.

"Bad orcs," she said quietly.

"Yes," Thranduil frowned, disturbed by what this young one must have witnessed. "They were. And you were very brave. Do you remember seeing a bad elf lady with them?"

The elfling shook her head. "No lady, only orcs."

"Amdir," said Tira, with a kind smile.

Amdir's eyes swept Tira's long silver hair and settled on the emerald necklace at her throat.

"After the orcs hurt your ada, where did you go?"

Amdir was silent for a moment, then looked up at Thranduil who gave her an encouraging smile. "It's okay, Amdir, you can answer. You didn't do anything wrong," he reassured her.

Amdir nodded. "I followed the bad orcs," she whispered. Haldir, Feren and Tira did not need to lean in, their elven ears could hear Amdir's whispers perfectly.

"Did you see another elf lady at all?" asked Tira. The little girl nodded her head slowly.

"They wanted to hurt nana," she whispered. "The elf lady said no and kilt them."

Tira met Thranduil's eye. "Was the elf lady friends with the orcs?" she asked. The little girl looked at Tira like she had four eyes. "She kilt the orcs. She jumped out and the orcs were fighting. She tried to help." Amdir's voice was wavering and Thranduil could tell they were almost out of time.

"Can you answer one more question, little one?" he asked softly. Amdir nodded slowly. "The one who hurt your naneth. Was it the lady or an orc?"

Tears rolled down the little elfling's cheeks. She shook her head no. Thranduil looked at her with sympathy. "Would you like to whisper it in my ear?" he asked. The little girl nodded, and grabbing Thranduil's sleeve, pulled herself up to whisper in his ear, her small hand resting on his cheek. She leaned in to give her answer and Thranduil's eyes opened wide.

* * *

 

Thranduil asked the guard to unlock the door and he and Feren entered Isobel's private chambers. The room was empty. He quickly stepped out to the courtyard only to find it too, deserted. He walked over to the half completed elk painting and gently touched his forefinger to the canvas and rubbed it against his thumb, smudging the still wet paint.

His hands curled into fists and his nostrils flared as the ire built inside of him. To Mandos with this dark elf! He resisted the urge to fling the canvas to the ground and instead focused his eyes on the treetops visible beyond the courtyard walls. He should have kept her locked down below.

He shook his head, willing himself to focus on the task at hand. Which way would she have gone? "Feren!" the King yelled. "Ready the horses!" The King closed his eyes and willed the anger to leave his body. He connected his mind to the forest and began to search.

* * *

 

Isobel travelled swiftly, following the river east. For three days she had secretly squirreled away enough food to see her through two days of travel. She had quietly lifted a small dagger from the belt of one of the guards as he helped her to carry her easel outside.

She felt a pang of guilt as she thought about it, but let it go. Once she was beyond the King's borders, she would hunt. She would stay alive. That was all that mattered.

She had kept close watch on the guard's rotations below her courtyard walls, waiting for the perfect moment to climb down unnoticed, but when Feren told her about the witness, she knew her wait was over. She had to leave now, or risk being imprisoned here forever.

It was easy to scale the wall of the courtyard. She had expected she would have to knock out the guard below with sheer force (a long shot at best), but the guard was suddenly diverted by a pretty elleth who came to drop off some food. Isobel didn't waste a moment and made a wide berth around the two, keeping her head low. She dearly missed her hunting leathers but they had not been returned to her and at least her gown was green although frustratingly limiting; she cursed it every second step.

Her plan was to travel east beside the great Forest River towards Long Lake. Once she passed the east marches, she would head south, skirting the forest as far as East Blight, where she'd turn back west, crossing the Forest Narrows to the Gladden Fields and finally heading south, on the familiar road home.

The sun shone bright on her shoulders and she inhaled the scent of mossy bark, decaying leaves and the fragrant ivy that embraced the oldest tree trunks. It felt wonderful to be outside again and to walk freely in the forest. It was a pity that she hadn't visited Mirkwood under better circumstances, and that now she could never return to explore its glades.

She shook her head; had she remained, she would never be allowed to leave. Despite her initial surge of hope, she didn't believe there could be a real witness, and didn't trust what this mysterious onlooker could have to say about her role in the murder.

No doubt this so-called witness was probably an elf who took pleasure in punishing her for the deeds of her family. That, she thought to herself, is not going to happen. Not today.

She paused as she heard a branch snap to her right. There, beyond the trees, she saw a flash of speckled auburn, and she smiled. Perhaps this deer was a good omen, sent by the Valar to see her safe. Or perhaps it was one of the King's spies sent to find her. Isobel shivered, and hastened her step.

* * *

 

Feren hurried into the stables where Thranduil was waiting for his horse to be saddled. "She's been spotted heading east, my lord. The guard did not apprehend her, as per your directive. They are tracking her in a wide circle. She is yet six hours from the border."

Thranduil nodded curtly and dismissed him. He had sensed her movement towards his borders already but it was good to have Feren confirm it. Two more guards, already on horseback, waited in the stable courtyard. The horse master led Thranduil's white gelding out of the stable and Thranduil swung up, taking the reins.

"With haste!" The King declared, and sitting high in their saddles, the three elves departed from the King's Halls and rode east at a brisk gallop.

************************************************************

Isobel was second-guessing her decision to leave. But she had to, she reasoned. The last of the sun glowed scarlet in front of her, and the shadows of the forest lengthened. It was slower going than she had hoped; the terrain was uneven and, as she neared the edge of the forest, it became rockier and offered less cover. Her stomach growled and she rifled through her leather bag for an apple.

She heard a thump in the distance, then another. The hairs on her arms rose and her senses sharpened. Horses. Fast. She dropped the apple and began to run, ducking below low hanging branches, one hand hiking up the gown as she zig zagged around trees and rocks. She didn't need to look back to know there were three horses pursuing her and they were gaining rapidly. She knew she stood little chance and frantically looked for an escape of some kind. She heard the roar of the river to her left and veered towards it.

"Noro lim!" shouted the King "Do not let her reach the river!" With a kick of his boots the horse sped towards her and finally she came into his view.

Isobel gracefully leapt over fallen trunks and ducked through narrow coverlets of bush, her step as sure as a deer, never slowing, never stumbling.

He knew once she reached the river, he could lose her. Would she be so foolish as to throw herself in? She was a feral animal running for her life. Yes, she would, and he had to stop her. He urged his horse on, steadily closing the gap.

The forest opened into a grassy meadow right before it reached the river edge. Once on even ground, Thranduil leaned forward, whispering to the gelding, and it broke into a lightning fast run. The two guards followed behind in close pursuit, their horses kicking up dirt and dust behind them, their eyes steadily tracking their prey.

Thranduil wasn't sure if Isobel had weapons (although his sharp eyes saw neither bow nor sheath on her body) but he kept a distance as his horse overtook then circled around her.

Thranduil pulled back on his reins, his horse rearing in protest at the sudden command, and came to stop in front of Isobel. The two other horsemen appeared at either side of her. Isobel was surrounded.

She spun in a circle staring at each guard with hatred and then finally faced the King who had leapt off his horse and now stood in front of it, attempting to calm it with soft elven words of endearment.

Thranduil turned to regard her with angry eyes, shaking his head. "You would cost me my best horse, were I a worse rider!" he spat out. He stormed towards her and she retreated in response. The two guards closed in to contain her.

"I will not return!" she shouted, looking behind her and taking note of the guards. She whipped her head back around and looked directly at the King. "I will never let you hold me prisoner again. I will die before I return with you!"

Thranduil's blue eyes blazed and his nostrils flared.

"DO NOT TEMPT ME!" he returned. "You attack my guard, you flaunt my rule and now you dare to leave MY lands without MY permission!"

Emboldened by the anger that surged through her blood she stepped towards the King whose eyebrows rose with incredulity at her audaciousness.

"One would think you would WELCOME the departure of a spy and murderer from YOUR lands. But no, you're scared I'll run to the Enemy. THAT'S what you think I am! To Morgoth with you! You are NOT my king and I will NEVER go back to your miserable dungeons!"

Isobel suddenly pulled the short dagger from the dust ridden folds of her gown. The gleam of the silver glinted in the red light of the dying sun as, without hesitation, Isobel pointed the blade to her chest and plunged.

Thranduil leapt forward, closing the gap in an instant. He grabbed the blade just as it made contact with her skin and knocked Isobel down, twisting their bodies to land beneath her, breaking her fall.

"NO!" She cried as she fell against him with a crash of limbs, groping for the dagger in his hand. He tossed the dagger aside and grabbed her wrists, violently rolling her onto her back. He hovered above her, holding her wrists above her head, his eyes dark with anger as he stared at her. His chest heaved as he held her down.

He took a deep breath. "I did not come to apprehend you, Isobel of Halir. I came to release you." He paused for a moment, his eyes flicked to his own hands restraining her, and his lips twitched with the irony of the statement. He exhaled. "You are cleared of all charges."

Isobel stopped struggling and stared up at him, uncomprehending for a moment.

"Do you understand?" he said, more softly, his grip loosening a measure. Isobel continued to stare, but stopped struggling. "I am not here to harm you. I am here to free you."

She suddenly narrowed her eyes at him. "So you restrain me in order to free me? I don't believe you, not when you have a witness who will happily lie to see me and my family further ruined!" She strained against his strong arms that held her down. "Let me go!"

The king looked at her with disbelief. "Stubborn elf! I - the King of Mirkwood - have come to personally release you only to be met with such..." He exhaled and turned his head to the side, closing his eyes for a moment to contain his temper.

He turned back to Isobel, her face only inches away from his own. He became suddenly aware of her scent of lavender and grass, of her silvery eyes and the rosy flush of her cheeks and chest, and equally aware of the two guards watching the exchange. "You are obstinate, you are dangerous, and, on my word, you are free to go, I would not keep you here."

She offered the slightest nod and the King, satisfied that she would remain calm, released her wrists and gracefully rose to his feet. He offered her his hand to help her up.

She hesitated, but realized her pride could be better served in a standing position, and accepted. He looked at her with narrow eyes, measuring her next move lest he should have to defend himself or defend her from herself, but she stood still, her face a suspicious mirror of his own.

Thranduil exhaled and turned to his guards. "Ride ahead and prepare for our arrival," he commanded. The two elves immediately mounted their horses and departed, leaving the King and the dark elf staring at each other warily as the sun disappeared and night fell.

Thranduil waved his hands and fireflies came together to create a warm glow around them. "Come with me, the road is nearby. It is only a few hours’ ride back to the palace"

Isobel raised an eyebrow. "So I am free?"

"You are."

"And you came here to tell me this?"

"I did."

"I thought you said you would not keep me here." Isobel tilted her head. The King was ready to depart but she hadn't moved an inch and she rather resented his assuming her cooperation. "Why would I follow you now?"

"Because it is night and we are in Mirkwood. You are unlikely to survive here without me and, while you may not value your life, as King of Mirkwood, I would see you safe."

Isobel could not deny the King's logic, although the last thing she wanted to do was give in to him on anything. "I do not wish to remain in Mirkwood. I only wish to return home," she said stubbornly.

He sighed with exasperation as though she were a petulant child. "Yes, I know you wish to return to Fangorn, I believe you have mentioned it more than once. You may leave on the morrow, Isobel. I will not keep you against your will."

Isobel looked at him with narrowed eyes.

"You have my word as King."

She studied him for a moment. His eyes were steady and his face was, for once, open. While she did not like him, she trusted him. Isobel nodded.

Satisfied, he walked back to his horse and ran his hand down its neck, offering soft words and a friendly pat. The horse, now calm, sniffed in his hand, looking for treats. Thranduil patted its nose, then took the reins and led the horse towards her.

"Please." He gestured towards the saddle, but Isobel shook her head. She preferred to walk. Thranduil shrugged his shoulders and they made their way over to the road where they began to walk in awkward silence.

Thranduil kept his face forward but glimpsed at Isobel every few moments. She studiously stared straight ahead.

"Isobel"

"My lord"

They both began at once.

"I'm sorry,"

"Please continue,"

Once again they spoke simultaneously. They stared at each other for a moment and Thranduil smiled in spite of himself. "Please," he said. "I would hear you what you have to say."

Isobel took a deep breath. She felt suddenly shy in front of the King. "Well, why did you come yourself? Why not just send your guard, or let me leave all together?"

"Ah. Well, I wanted you to know that we knew you were innocent of the charges. I thought it would be cruel for you to carry the weight of this needlessly."

"It was cruel to lock me in your dungeons."

"I did what I had to as King, Isobel – but I am sorry that you were made to suffer. In truth, your deeds the day you arrived were very brave and the family of the slain elves," at this he paused for a heartbeat, "would show you their gratitude for your courage, if you would but give them that chance."

Isobel ignored the King's gentle request and pressed her original question "Why not just send your guards?"

"I was afraid you would injure them," he replied dryly, but his eyes held a smile as he looked sideways at her to gauge her reaction.

She laughed softly and Thranduil's eyebrows raised in surprise. She hastily arranged her features to appear serious before looking up at him. "Sorry," she offered, a measure of embarrassment slipping through her facade.

The King's smile spread to his lips and blossomed into a grin. "Do not apologize. It's a nice change to see you smile, Mistress Isobel."

Isobel's cheeks flamed. She was not used to compliments. To make matters thoroughly uncomfortable, she was hyper-sensitive to Thranduil's presence, to his overwhelming height, muscular frame, and his direct manner. She was suddenly very unsure of what to say next and remained silent.

Thranduil waited for a moment until he was sure she was not going to say anything before he continued. "I came myself because I felt that you deserved an apology. There were those in my council who advised me to trust in your innocence and I chose a more cautious path. I regret that and I'm sorry." He nodded in sincere apology.

"It's overwhelming," she admitted. "I have gone years without seeing other elves and now I find that eyes are upon me every moment of the day. The only good thing about being a prisoner is that they don't talk to me."

At this Thranduil offered a wry smile. "I can understand your relief at not having to interact in needless conversation, but I am sorry for the cause of it. On our return tonight, people will again look at you, but they will not see you through the dark lens of suspicion as they did before, now they will see the brave elf maiden who would defend her people and has suffered for it."

Isobel looked up at him quickly. "They must think it odd that I live alone in Fangorn as I do."

Thranduil nodded. "Indeed they do. But I do not. If I did not have my responsibilities then I too could live in the depths of an old forest like Fangorn. I envy you, Isobel. You live a life that the wood elves once lived. When I look at you, I see an elk; exotic, feral, beautiful and an intrinsic part of the forest. Of my forest."

It was a bold thing for him to say and she said nothing in return. She stole a glance at his face but shadows hid his eyes now and his hair gleamed in the moonlight. "You had the courage to see me for what I am," he said inside her head. "Do not be surprised that I see you too." Her heart beat quickly and warmth flooded her body.

The elven road was lit with lanterns and they walked in the warm circle of light. Fluttering leaves caused shadows to dance on the edges of the light and she looked beyond the slender trees to the shadows beyond. Thranduil followed her gaze.

"Worry not," he said. "The road is safe or we would not risk it. The night falls quickly this time of year. It is not as late as it feels, but still, we should return now to my Halls. We will ride.

The King stopped walking and put the reins over the gelding's head.

Isobel froze. "Together?"

Thranduil ignored the question. "You are tired and I am not sure how well you ride. You will be in front." He stood straight and even in the dark she could tell his look did not invite debate.

Sighing in resignation, she walked over to the horse and swung herself up. The King followed. He locked one strong arm around her waist and the other rested on her thigh, lightly holding the reins.

At first she sat ramrod straight, uncomfortable at this intimate proximity. "Relax into me, Isobel" he whispered into her hair. The tickle of his breath sent a shiver down her spine. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to lean back into Thranduil's chest. She fit neatly with the top of her head right below his chin. The King tightened his hold on Isobel, and urged the horse forward.

Isobel tilted her head up to ask the King a question. He lowered his own to receive it.

"You said that 'elves' died that day. There was more than one?"

"Sadly yes. There were two, a mother and father. Their elfling survived. It was she who saw you with the orcs."

"That is terrible. And how does she fare now?"

"With one so young, it is hard to say. She is with her kin and I have assigned Tira – my seer - to her care."

Isobel shook her head sadly and, without thinking of it, as though it were the most natural thing to do, she placed her own hand over Thranduil's at her waist, and he pressed her into his chest in a gesture of comfort.

Exhausted from the events of the day and lulled by the soothing rhythm of the horse and the warmth radiating from Thranduil, Isobel felt her eyes grow heavy and, with a sigh, she fell asleep.


	4. Turn Around

**** Thranduil's horse approached the stables later in the night. The weather had turned cold and dark clouds now hid the silver moon. By the time they reached the stables, the forest was covered in a thick blanket of snow that muffled their horse's steps. Except for the travelers, one asleep, the other alert and sitting high atop the white gelding, the forest was still and quiet.

"Isobel," Thranduil gently roused the sleeping elleth in his arms. She opened her eyes and blearily looked around. The horsemaster walked up to them and smoothly helped Isobel down off the horse. Isobel was not used to riding and her legs shook as she stood.

Thranduil swung down behind her, and watched as the horsemaster took the horse's reins and led the horse into the stable to be tended. He turned to Isobel, recognizing her discomfort. "Put your arm around me Isobel," he said. "I'll help you to your room." The King did not smile but his face was soft in the warm light that reflected on the snow from the stable lanterns.

"I'll be fine," she replied, as she took a wobbly step and felt her legs give out. Thranduil jumped forward and caught her before she landed in the snow. He waited until she was stable then gracefully stepped back, hiding a small smile.

"You're not used to riding and it will take a few minutes for your legs to be your own again." He raised his brows to her, asking permission to put his arm around her. She shook her head no and took another step, this time staying upright.

Thranduil stared at her for a moment then, with an almost imperceptible shrug, he walked towards the entrance, but he shortened his stride so she could keep up. He nodded at the guards who held the door open for them and led Isobel through the hallway. They were quickly met by the King's butler, Galion.

"Have Mistress Isobel's quarters been prepared?"

Galion  nodded at the King. "They have my lord. The Willow Room, as you requested. The bath is warm should the Mistress wish to bathe." He turned and nodded to Isobel with a warm smile. The thought of a warm bath made her smile in return.

"Very good Galion. I will lead Isobel to her chambers myself. Please have dinner waiting for me in my solar and have something ready for Isobel when she's done bathing."

Galion nodded curtly and turned on his heel to heed the King's orders.

Thranduil turned to Isobel noting that her footing was surer now and inwardly smiling at the inner strength of this striking elf. They walked in silence down the empty hallway, and climbed a set of stairs where they reached a set of carved wooden doors that opened into yet another corridor. Thranduil nodded at yet another guard as they passed.

Isobel noticed that this hallway was unlike the others and looked around with interest. The walls were smooth stone carved with knotwork trees and animals. Paintings lined one side of the hallway and Isobel slowed her step as she took in the artwork. Thranduil turned to wait and regarded her thoughtfully as she drifted from one painting to the next.

"These are my private quarters. I thought you'd be more comfortable here as they are set apart from the rest of the palace. I will appoint an elleth to help you dress tomorrow, but tonight I will show you your room myself and make sure you're comfortable. Here we are." They arrived in front of a large oak door carved with birds and deer. Thranduil opened the door and stepped inside.

Isobel followed and gasped when she saw the room. In the corner was a magnificent bed with four posters carved as willow trees, softly cradling white silk curtains that flowed from their high boughs. Off the side was a grotto of white quartz where a waterfall tumbled from a rent in the ceiling into a warm rock bath. There was a lit hearth with sofas in front of the bed and one wall was lined with books. A crystal door led out to a small veranda that overlooked the forest. Isobel walked over to it peered out into the snowy blackness. She turned to the look at the King, her eyes wide.

"I have never seen a room so beautiful," she said, slowly shaking her head.

Thranduil walked over to her. Her face glowed in the soft firelight. He reached out and brushed a strand of ebony hair from her face. She looked up at him, holding her breath. "It suits you." He tilted his head to the side as he studied her.

Isobel did not look away. She held his gaze, losing herself in the intensity of his blue eyes. She reached up and placed her hand over the King's scarred cheek, her fingers lightly tracing the scar's deep grooves. Thranduil leaned into her hand.

"Stay in Mirkwood, Isobel, Do not leave yet," his eyes locked with hers.

She went to pull her hand away but he grabbed it in his own and, turning it over, kissed her palm, never breaking eye contact.

Isobel inhaled sharply. Like a deer that meets a hunter, she stood still, the small hairs of her neck raised, waiting for his next move. He moved closer to her. "Do." He leaned over and kissed her temple. "Not." He kissed her jaw, running his tongue along her jawline. "Leave." His tongue brushed her sensitive bottom lip. He pulled back and stared at her, a small smile on his lips, his eyes held an almost imperceptible challenge that Isobel felt in her stomach. Her face flushed with heat.

She narrowed her gaze at him and his smile grew. He's teasing me, she realized with a start, and a surge of anger ripped through her tired body. Lightning fast, Isobel grabbed his wrist in her hand and bent it towards his chest, pushing him back, her eyes fierce on his face. He did not resist, he did not even flinch, such was his strength.

"What are you doing?" Isobel demanded breathlessly. "Is this a game to you?"

He looked at her with surprise. His eyes flicked to where she tightly held his wrist, then returned to her face. Suddenly his eyes darkened and his face turned serious. "What am I doing, you ask…do you think I'm teasing you? By the Vala! Who is teasing who Isobel? One moment you're fighting me," he jerked his wrist sharply and she released her grasp. "Yet you let me touch you like this…" He reached for her wrist in an echo of how she had held his, and raised it to his lips. She shook her head, confused as she looked at him, unsure what to do, torn between fight and flee.

"Always you are ready to fight the big fight, Isobel. You want my comfort, but you will not say it. I think you would want to stay here in Mirkwood, but you will not admit it. You fight my guards, you run away, I come to fetch you, see you back safely, and rather than trusting me, you choose to think I toy with you?" He shook his head, exasperated. "Isobel, at some point, we all must surrender to something. You can't fight everyone all the time. Do you really want to go back to living alone? Because by the Vala, if I believed you did I would deliver you to Fangorn myself, but I do not believe it. Stop acting like a child Isobel, and accept what is being offered to you!"

Isobel's heart raced at his words, her emotions shifted from anger, to longing to stubborn indignation. "And what is it you offer me King Thranduil? To take away my freedom? My independence?"

Thranduil exhaled as he looked down at her and shook his head. "No Isobel," he answered, his voice firm. "I would give you your freedom, I would empower your independence. But first there must be peace between us – anno idh din. Can you bring yourself to trust to me?"

She searched his face for a smirk, for a challenge, and found only the naked honesty of his offer. His eyes did not tease her, they implored her and she had a fleeting glimpse what it would be to have this elf as an ally and a friend. To find a retreat in his arms, to ride out in battle at his side. She closed her eyes and the vision retreated beyond a murky abyss of suspicion and isolation. Could she surrender? Could she find the courage to trust Thranduil's words and reach her vision? Vala give me the courage, she prayed. She open her eyes and exhaled, trying to release the tension in her mind.

Isobel's face was so expressive that Thranduil could easily watch the emotions warring with each other. He felt a stab of guilt for pushing her, but it was quickly replaced with annoyance at her stubbornness and refusal to allow the support of others. He knew what it was not to trust, it wasn't easy for him either, but it bothered him that she refused to trust him, particularly after he had, on more than one occasion now, stepped outside of his role of King to talk to her and to even fetch her this evening. But this is new for her, he reminded himself. Have patience. He stood silent and waited.

Isobel, thought of the elves that had talked about her family as she had made her way to the throne dais that first day in Mirkwood. Yet a new side of the equation appeared to her. She had been a prisoner then. What would it be like now that she was a guest? Could Thranduil silence those voices and help her restore her family name and win back the respect of the elves? Isobel was a fighter, and it suddenly dawned on her that bravery is action in the midst of fear. She had been fighting this war all her life and her father had fought it before her. If she could bring herself to trust this King, perhaps she could find peace among the elves instead of in isolation.

She gave the King a searching look. Trust him, she said to herself…surrender to him. Bravely ignoring the fear in her heart, she entered the abyss, and offered the King a deep curtsy.

Thranduil stood still and tall in response, his chin raised. As Isobel's again raised her eyes to his, his kingly countenance fell away and he suddenly stepped forward, taking her in his arms and crushing his lips against hers. He fiercely cupped the back of her head with his hand. She gasped in response and met his kiss with a ferocity that mirrored his own.

A surge of longing rose in Isobel and she pressed her body against the silver King as he kissed her deeply, passionately and possessively.

Thranduil pulled back, and stared down at her, his eyes wild and unguarded, and his breathing ragged. "Brave girl," he whispered. He exhaled and took a step back, his eyes glued to her lips and neck. By the Vala, how he wanted her. His mind warred with an intense desire to lead her to the bed, and a deep understanding that, having stripped her of her defenses, he could not now take advantage.

He raised his hand to her face and rubbed his thumb across her lips. He had a sudden flash of memory; Isobel on her knees in his throne room, her head thrown back, her breasts heaving, as a guard held her down.

His pupils dilated as he looked at her face and wrapped his hand in a tangle of black hair, gently pulling her head back, exposing her fair neck. His breath was shallow and he knew that if he didn't leave immediately, he would not have the strength to leave at all. "I will not take this from you," he whispered. "Nay, I will not take anything from you, but I will keep your trust." He exhaled and ran his hand through his hair, backing away from her.

She stared at him wide-eyed. "Are you leaving? Now?" She asked, incredulous. 'I must,' he answered in her mind.

"I'm sorry….please sleep Isobel," he said, his face as strange mixture of confusion and apology. "We will talk in the morning." He offered her a graceful bow and quickly left the room.

Isobel stared after him in shock, her mouth open, and her heart beating quickly. She touched her swollen lips with her fingertips and shook her head in disbelief as the door closed behind him. She wasn't sure if she was shocked at his boldness or his leaving so abruptly. She began to unbraid her hair and walked to the side of the interior rock pool, feeling altogether unsettled and restless.

She heard a noise in the hallway and her eyes flew back to the door with half hope. Would he return? No, unlikely. The noise faded. With a few deep breaths she composed herself and felt the weariness of the day descend upon her. Her legs were trembling. She sank down to the side of the pool, and ran her fingers through the steaming water.

When was the last time I trusted anyone, she asked herself. Never? Not since her parents were killed by the orcs. Thranduil's words were harsh – she was acting childishly, but her instincts were so strong. Fighting had been part of her existence for so long that she had forgotten there were other options too, until the King had reminded her tonight. Not just the king, she thought to herself: Thranduil. Keeper of her trust, or so he would say. She closed her eyes and inhaled the fragrant steam that rose from the elven waters.

With a sigh, she stood up and stepped out her sodden green gown and left it fall in a heap at her feet. Climbing over the side of the pool, she slid into the warm water with a moan of relief and relaxation. As the warmth of the hot water seeped through her skin, she considered her unsuccessful escape, and her surprise at the King's efforts to retrieve her. She thought of his breath hot on her neck and the feel of his mouth claiming hers. She could feel the bond, clearly he could too. She was tired and too much had happened today, and she couldn't process it all properly. She suddenly missed Fangorn, its tall whispering trees, secret pools and mossy refuges. She longed for the simplicity of her life there. But her heart told her that Fangorn was no longer the answer.

She leaned back in the water, her hair floating around her. She remembered the stories about her grandfather Eöl. Introverted, but passionate, strong and respected. He too, had preferred a solitary existence, but even after he met his wife Aradhel, he refused to leave the forest. Even to the detriment of his marriage, of his sons, and their family name. They had all paid the price for Eöl’s self-imposed isolation…

She exhaled a ragged breath and, emptying her head of all thought, she relaxed into the heat of the healing waters. "Enough" she said aloud, forcing her mind to run in another direction, smoothing out her thoughts and releasing her anxiety once and for all.

She did not remember the young elleth who entered the room and helped her to her bed and into an undreaming sleep.

***************************************************************

Thranduil looked up from the scrolls he was reading as Tira entered his solar, and slowly set them aside.

"Please Tira, eat," he said, dispensing with the morning's salutations and waving his hand towards the large tray of fruit and bread Galion had brought earlier that morning.

Tira seated herself in the empty chair in front of the King's graceful wooden desk and surveyed the remains of the morning's fare, noting that much of it hadn't been touched. Her mind immediately jumped to the myriad of possible reasons for the King's lack of appetite. "How fares the dark elf?" She asked, smoothing her gown nonchalantly.

Thranduil, who didn't miss a thing, raised an eyebrow and pushed the tray closer to Tira. "She is well," he replied. "She was tired from her…journey…but I think she is resolved to stay in Mirkwood at least for today, possibly tomorrow, possibly longer."

"I will check on her later, if it pleases you," She said. The King nodded, satisfied, and immediately launched into the reason he'd summoned Tira.

"I received a message from Legolas early this morning. The patrol is expected to return tomorrow. He asks that we be ready with healers. They have taken out a fair share of arachnids and many of the patrol have suffered injuries. Nothing life-threatening of course," Thranduil said quickly, quelling Tira's obvious concern at the news. Tira nodded and the King continued. "Still, I would ask that from now on, you equip the patrols with more healing medicines than you have in the past. With the increase in filth infiltrating Mirkwood, it would seem we have more need of healing draughts than in the past."

"Of course, my lord. I anticipated your request and have brewed extra batches to be ready for the next patrol. As for the Prince's return, I shall welcome the host with two of my helpers."

Thranduil nodded, his mouth set in a thin, worried line.

"My lord, what of the Lorien party? I understand that Master Haldir and his host intend to return in six days. I worry that it might impact the elleth Amdir. She has grown much attached to the Lorien guard since losing her own parents."

"Has she indeed? Well, it's to be expected. But still, Master Haldir has his own responsibilities to attend to. How is the young elf coming along? Has the darkness touched her, do you think?"

Tira was quiet, her eyes troubled, as she inhaled deeply. "I'm worried. While she is resilient, she is also young and has suffered a serious mental injury. While one cannot expect her to move beyond the events concerning her parents quickly, I fear her mind lingers on that day. She has nightmares and eats little. It is only with Haldir that she demonstrates feelings of security, even more so than when she is with her aunts and uncles. It is reminiscent of Lady Celebrían’s state of mind after her abduction and return to Imladris, and I am troubled to see it in one so young. Of course I understand that Haldir must honour his duties at home, but is there nothing we can do to detain him for the sake of the young one?"

At the mention of Celebrían, Thranduil's brow furrowed. Abducted by orcs, Elrond's beautiful wife had been unable to cope with life after her rescue and eventually retreated to the Undying Lands. It was inconceivable that the same ailment would come over one so young as Amdir. Thranduil's hand caressed his chin thoughtfully. While it was not prudent to detain the march warden for the sake of one elf, he himself was charmed by the young elleth and he had noted Haldir's obvious fondness for the little one too.

"I am meeting with Haldir after this. I will raise it to him. Perhaps an arrangement can be made. In the meantime, prepare for the return of the guard. I fear Legolas downplays the extent of their injuries, his writing to ask us to prepare is significant in itself. Thank you Tira. You may depart."

******************************************

Isobel awoke with sigh. A branch of the old willow was tapping on her cottage window from the wind. She turned over and realized with a start that she was not in Fangorn, she was in Mirkwood, and someone was tapping on her door. "Enter" she said, as she stretched. She felt fully rested for the first time in months.

A young elleth entered with a tray of food and a dark blue gown under her arm.

"For when you're ready, mistress," the elleth said as she placed the tray of food on the table in front of the crystal balcony door and laid the gown across the foot of the bed. She filled the jug with warm water from the grotto and placed it on the night table beside the basin at the side of the bed. With a shy smile at Isobel, she started to make the fire.

Isobel rose and, wrapping herself in her sheet, she took an apple from the tray and stepped outside to the balcony that overlooked the forest. The sun was high in the sky. The snow had rid the oaks of most of their red and gold leaves and Isobel shivered in the cold autumn air. She walked back inside where the fire was beginning to fill the room with its warmth.

Isobel completed her morning ablutions and stepped into the blue gown. She looked at the door and she hesitated. It had been a month since she'd experienced the freedom to go as she pleased and she found herself quite unsure of what to do.

"Perhaps you'd like to see the King's private courtyard, Mistress? He has made it open to you," the elleth offered helpfully.

She smiled with relief, "Yes," she answered. "That'd be…lovely. Do you think you could show me the way?"

The elleth grinned and rose to lead Isobel out into the hallway. They turned east where the late season sun flooded through the skylights of the hallway, shafts of sunbeams warming the cool stone.

"Please Mistress," the elleth held out a cloak of grey fur and Isobel allowed her to wrap it over her shoulders before Isobel opened the crystal double doors and stepped into the large courtyard.

She blinked in the bright sunlight. The stone walls were covered in ivy that shone emerald green in the sunlight, and wisteria, now brown and dry in the cold season, offered only the faintest promise of its springtime glory.

The courtyard was warmed with a large white fireplace that lined one wall and where a soft warm fire burned. In front of the fire stood a tall elf, his back was to her and his pale hair gleamed like snow in the cold air.

"My lord?" said Isobel, a smiled bloomed on her face. The elf turned around and she stepped back in surprise. The smile fell in confusion. "My apologies," she said, flustered.

The elf stepped forward with a kind smile and put his hand on his heart, in greeting. "The apologies are mine own, I did not mean to surprise you. My name is Haldir, and I know your face. You are the mistress Isobel, if I am not mistaken. It is a pleasure to meet you, finally." Haldir swept his hand to the side and bowed his head.

Isobel stared at Haldir, her mouth open in shock. "You are a march warden of Lorien, are you not?"

Haldir's smile widened. "I am. I am pleased that you know me. It is long that my colleagues and I have wished to know you, but we have always respected your wishes to travel alone and allowed you safe passage around our borders. It is an odd thing that we should finally meet so far north."

"Yes, it is." Isobel stammered and fell silent for a moment. "I am surprised you know who I am…" she said finally. To her astonishment, Haldir laughed as he turned his handsome face back to the fire.

"I have heard you live a solitary life, but do not be so surprised. The dark elf of Fangorn is known to my people. Lord Celeborn has long welcomed you. He says you are kin both to him and to the Lady of the Light."

She looked up at him with a slight frown. "Yes, I suppose I am…Master…Haldir." Isobel also turned her face towards the fire and wrapped the cloak more tightly around her, overcome by sudden shyness.

The elf looked at Isobel and smiled when she said his name. She was glorious in her grey fur cloak. Her silver eyes shone in the light and her black hair was held back from her pale white skin in shiny thick braids. He knew that she returned to the palace the night before, escorted by the King himself, but her presence this morning in Thranduil's courtyard, as he himself waited for the King, was the last thing he expected.

"Mistress Isobel," he said suddenly, and she jumped at his voice. "Do forgive me," he said, seeing her reaction.

"No, forgive me, Master Haldir, I am used to being alone."

"I do apologize." He bowed gallantly.

"No, I don't mean to say…oh…" Isobel shook her head, again flustered.

Haldir smiled in amusement, and waited for her to continue.

"I mean to say that I do not meet many people, but I do know your face. I have often ventured out and seen only you. For days… I saw you wave once, I think…" She looked up into his fair face and saw that his blue eyes were friendly and held a smile. She too, exhaled and relaxed into a smile. "It was kind of you," she said, her composure recovered and her manner more natural.

"Think nothing of it. In truth, I am happy to meet you. I have often been curious about you and would wish very much that you would tell me of your life in Fangorn."

She flushed with pleasure. This face was the one face she had looked for when she skirted around Lorien's borders. The one face that brought her comfort. Haldir. She had often wondered at his name and now, as he stood beside her, she felt at ease with him and marveled at the fate of it.

"What would you wish to know?" she asked, and Haldir stepped closer to her and offered her a warm and open smile.

Just then the double doors opened the King stepped into the courtyard, resplendent in a white fur robe and an emerald green tunic. His dark eyebrows rose as both Haldir and Isobel stepped back from each other, their overly bright eyes turned in unison to greet the King. An inexplicable ire rose within the King as Haldir bowed graciously, calmly meeting his eye, and Isobel curtsied awkwardly and looked to the side.

"I see my guests are acquainted" the King said, his face neutral, his tone guarded.

"Indeed, my lord," answered Haldir cheerfully. "The mistress was about to tell me of life in Fangorn. It seems she has had quite an adventure," he turned to look sympathetically at Isobel. "And not an easy one, I gather."

Thranduil's sharp eyes fell on Isobel's pale face. Still she refused to look at him. He frowned as he took in her discomfort. "How are you today, Isobel? I hope you found your quarters to your liking?"

"Yes, my lord. I am unaccustomed to such luxury." She finally raised her eyes to meet Thranduil's and quickly lowered them again.

Was that a flash of guilt in her face? The King frowned and his eyes ran over her. Thranduil took in her blue gown and noted that the grey fur of her cloak was pale compared to the silver starlight of her eyes. His gaze turned to Haldir with carefully concealed irritation. The young Lorien march warden was observing Isobel as closely as he himself was, and damn if he wasn't standing a bit too close to her. "Haldir, let us postpone our meeting until noon. My apologies," he said abruptly, and leveled a clear, steady look on the guard.

Haldir knew dismissal when he saw it, and with a curt bow to Thranduil and a nod to Isobel, he turned on his heel and swiftly departed through the doors.

Thranduil watched him leave, then he walked over to where Isobel stood by the fireplace. They stood side by side, his arm resting gently against her shoulder. He fought the urge to embrace her and held his hands behind his back. He looked sideways at Isobel who was now staring intently into the fire. He opened his mouth to speak but she spoke instead.

"My lord," she began. "I wish to apologize for my behavior yesterday. How is your horse?"

Thranduil raised his brows and a smile of surprise crossed lips at this unexpected question. "My horse is quite recovered Mistress, but I must inquire as to which part of yesterday your apologies apply?"

Now it was Isobel's turn to offer him a small sheepish smile. "To all parts, I suppose. I have thought about what you said last night and you were right. I have acted badly since arriving in Mirkwood, not in a way that would honour my father or grandfather. It is as Feren said – that I have forgotten about the honour of elves, but you reminded me. It is only because your guard saved me that I am here now. Even when you suspected me of foul deeds, you and your guards were kind to me."

The King's face remained neutral as he listened, but inwardly winced at the reminder of her unfair imprisonment. "Come Isobel, let us not be so formal for already we have been through much together." He smiled kindly and turned towards her, although he kept his hands tightly clasped behind his back. "I too have apologies to offer you, and despite the injustice of your last month here in my kingdom, I am glad that my guard found you, and saved you, and brought you here. I am indeed sorry for the time you spent below. I hope you will allow me to make it up to you."

She looked up at him, her silver eyes steady on his face. Thranduil felt her gaze penetrate his composed façade and, suddenly aware of his scar, he turned his face back towards the fire.

"And what of last night?" she asked.

He paused. "I am truly sorry for last night. It was inappropriate for me to take advantage of your situation." His eyes flicked to hers and he coolly scanned her face for reaction.

She raised an eyebrow. "My 'situation'?"

He turned to face her fully and exhaled, his facade dropped. "I will not deny that I feel a…a bond…with you, and given your reaction last night, I am not alone in my perception."

Isobel's face flushed but she kept her eyes steadfast on the King's face.

"But as a King, it was wrong for me to approach you thus. Whatever our bond may be, it is hardly appropriate. If I were to take you as a mistress, that would be one thing, but I believe you would want much more than I can give you."

Isobel's raised her eyebrows and her mouth fell open in shock. "A mistress?" She could feel the familiar anger travelling up her spine and was tempted to embrace its comfort and lash out at him. But instead she tamped it down. "I don't understand," she said, her voice low. Her eyes flashed dangerously but she remained calm.

The King took Isobel's arm and led her to a stone bench. She followed him without hesitation. He spread his robe to protect them from the cold and they sat down together.

"Isobel, you do my heart good. You intrigue me and you confound me. I enjoy having you here more than I can say. You remind me of what we elves were meant to be before the Darkness came and corrupted our world, forcing us out the trees and into the caves."

Isobel's anger diffused and she listened carefully, but always anticipating the change in direction his words would inevitably take.

"But?"

The King sighed. "But I am a King and I was married once. My wife was killed long ago. I miss her every day. Every time I see my son, I think of her. You, Isobel are the first one to make my heart feel something, you are the first one to see ME since those days. It is intoxicating, and I am grateful, yet we cannot bond. My people would question it. Elves do not remarry."

"You are the King. You may do as you please," Isobel could not keep the slight tremble out of her voice. Thranduil eyed her sympathetically. He knew he was hurting her.

"Isobel, as King, I have less freedom to go outside the norms.

"But Thranduil…"

The King blinked. It was the first time she had used his name alone without title. He smiled at the odd sound of it and the feeling of joy it unleashed in his heart to hear it spoken in her voice. Focus, he rebuked himself.

Isobel saw his sudden smile and understood its meaning. She felt the same. She raised a soft hand to his face and brushed her thumb across his temple, running her hand down the sleekness of his silver hair. His eyes remained steady and she could not have guessed at the reserve of strength it took for him to resist leaning into her, and touching her in return.

Isobel believed that she understood him all too well. For she understood what he would not say: That her name – dark as it was – could never be linked with the royal family of Mirkwood. She appreciated his attempt to spare her feelings, it was kind. She chose the next best path: A graceful retreat.

"I have thought about it too. You have given me a chance to have another life and to redeem my family's name should I remain in Mirkwood. I admit that, yesterday, when I left here, I felt regret and wished that I could have been here under different circumstances. Now I am." She offered him a small smile. "Last night I was tired and overwhelmed. I was not myself. Of course I felt the connection, but if we were to bond, I would never know if your people accepted me because they wished to or because they felt they had to. Therefore, with respect, I have decided not to bond with you."

Thranduil inhaled and leaned back from her, resting his weight on his hands behind him and tucking his chin towards his chest as he considered her words. His blinked and, without moving his head, stared up through long lashes at Isobel. "I see. Then we agree."

Her heart sank at his words, and Thranduil leaned towards her. He reached out and lifted her chin with his elegant fingers. Starting down at her he said: "It doesn't mean that I don't care or want your happiness. I care most ardently. My Kingdom may be your home for as long as you wish. When my son returns, I encourage you to spend time with him – he will show you how to better wield your sword and your bow." He saw her face brighten and, encouraged, continued. "There is also someone I would have you meet. Her name is Amdir and she is the young one whose mother you tried to save. I would have you happy, Isobel."

Isobel looked up. "I would like to meet her very much, but I am not sure how long I wish to stay in Mirkwood."

Thranduil nodded. It was the answer he'd expected. "Master Haldir departs in six days. If you wish, he could escort you to Lorien and from there you've not far to go to return home. That is time enough to meet Amdir and rest before your return journey" His face was neutral as he spoke, while Isobel looked sad.

"Thank you, that would suit me very well," she finally replied.

'I am sorry', he gently said in her head as he enclosed her hand in his own. They sat quietly for a moment, then Isobel straightened her back and rose. The King released her hand and rose with her. To his disappointment, she said nothing in return, and not realizing she had forgotten to ask the King's permission, she left him alone with his thoughts in the courtyard.


	5. Predators

For the rest of the day, Isobel learnt her way around Thranduil's Halls. Where they were cold and suspicious before, the elves now welcomed her warmly with smiles and well wishes. Word of her deeds in trying to save Amdir's mother from the orcs was widely circulated by the King's guards and Isobel was greeted and acknowledged by every elf she passed. The elves were so friendly that Isobel quickly began to feel overwhelmed as she wandered the halls and was looking a bit panicked when Feren found her.

"Mistress Isobel!" he quickened his stride to reach her as she stood on one of the bridges near the main dais in the great hall, watching the river flow below her. She snapped her head up at the sound of her name and was relieved to see Feren striding towards her.

He reached her and offered her a smile, placing his hand over his heart. "Mae govannen, Isobel! I am happy you have returned to us and under better circumstances."

Isobel smiled although she felt harried and wild-eyed. Sensing her discomfort and correctly guessing at its cause, Feren offered to show her the King's private library.

"What I really want, Feren, is to go outside and walk under the trees, but I am afraid to leave. I am afraid they won't let me out, or perhaps they won't let me back in."

Feren smiled at her statement. Her fear was not logical, but it was understandable.

"Isobel," he replied. "I am captain of the King's security detail when Prince Legolas is not here. When he is, I am second in command. I promise you that not only are you free to wander the trees, but that the doors will always be open to you. Shall I escort you outside?"

Isobel rewarded Feren's offer with a beaming smile and together they walked towards the massive iron doors to the Kingdom. With Isobel at his side, Feren stopped to speak to the guards.

"I wish to remind you that Mistress Isobel is free to come and go as she pleases and the doors shall always be open to her."

The main guard stepped forward with a smile. "We received these very same orders late last night and early this morning. Welcome, Mistress Isobel. We are pleased to make you comfortable as the King's guest." He put his hand over his heart and swept it to the side, and Isobel returned the gesture. She glanced over at Feren who smiled, and they departed across the bridge and into the mossy pathways of Mirkwood, now brown with the season.

Near the palace, the sun-dappled walkways were wide and flat, and the melting snow left pools of silver water in the path's wide divots that the two elves deftly stepped around. With the trees mostly bare, they could see far ahead and the wind moved more freely beneath the canopy. Free from the danger and darkness of the outer marches, it was a pleasant part of the forest.

"The King's borders extend far beyond this point, of course," explained Feren, looking out into the trees. "But I must caution you that we cannot ensure your safety should you wander beyond them. You are already familiar with the dangers of Mirkwood, and I know better than anyone that you are a skilled fighter. Still, it would be hard for me to explain to our King if anything happened to you."

Isobel smirked. "Don't worry, I think the King would understand better than you know."

Feren looked confused but smiled politely. "I must return to the Halls, but before I do, there is the small matter of your paintings. When you were in captivity, I took it upon myself to store them in hope that one day you would be freed. Now that day is here and I am in possession of 20 or more canvasses. My wife is anxious that they should…find a home." He favoured her with an apologetic smile.

She looked up at him, her eyes registering her shock. "Really? You kept them?! Master Feren, I would never have expected it – did you indeed believe me all that time?"

The Captain's smile blossomed into a warm grin. "I believed you. Tauriel believed you. And I think that the King believed you. He worked hardest to find the proof to free you."

Isobel fell silent. This was a new angle she hadn't thought of. But of course, all of the guards – not just Tauriel and Feren – had been kind to her and even the King had made that visit…She had fallen deeply into anger and self-pity while imprisoned, and now she felt ashamed for not having seen her situation more clearly, and for failing to give the Mirkwood elves the benefit of her doubt. Her mind jumped to Thranduil's rebuke the night before, and she quickly pushed the thought from her mind.

"I would like you to keep the painting I made of you Feren, a gift to your family - if you like it and you can find a place for it."

Her offered her a wry smile. "I admit that I was hoping you would say that. My wife has already had it framed."

She laughed. "I'm glad. As for the rest, perhaps you could bring them to my room? There is one of Haldir I would wish to present to him."

Feren looked sidelong at her. "If memory serves, mistress, there is more than one of Haldir."

Isobel stared into the forest. "For many years, his was the only face I knew. It is odd that now I should speak with him and call him friend. He has a kind face. I should like to paint him again."

Now Feren hid his smile. He had met Haldir early that morning and the March Warden of Lorien would speak of nothing but having finally met 'The Dark Elf of Fangorn.' He believed that Haldir was much smitten by Isobel, although neither elf would say it aloud. Feren had known Haldir for many centuries, and while the Lorien elf was outwardly affable and friendly, he knew that, inwardly, Haldir considered things deeply and was fiercely private. Had Isobel managed to catch Haldir's attention, she could scarcely do better for Haldir's skill in battle was unrivaled and his loyalty unshakable.

As though by unspoken agreement, they two elves stopped walking and turned to face each other.

"This is as far as I go," said Feren. "We are expecting a contingent of guards to arrive any moment and I must be there to debrief them. You may return with me or continue wandering, but again, I urge you, do not go too far."

"I will walk a little more. Thank you Feren."

The guard smiled at her, and turned on his heel and departed in the opposite direction back to the King's Halls.

Finally on her own in the forest, Isobel filled her lungs with clean crisp air. She could smell the damp leaves under her feet and hear the birdsong above her as the birds called to each and flitted from bough to bough. She walked further up the path until she heard a splash and the sound of moving water. She stepped off the path and through the thicket to search it's source and was rewarded with the sight of a crystalline pool of water, fed by a small rocky stream. She climbed onto a large rock beside the pool and leaned back, closing her eyes and enjoying the feel of the sun on her face. She started to drift into dreams, but awoke with start.

Someone was standing above her.

She opened her eyes to see a black-haired silver-eyed elf looking down at her with a smile. She quickly sat up on the rock, and resisted the temptation to back away from the stranger.

"Do you not know me, niece?"

Isobel tilted her head and looked at the elf closely. He had her father's eyes, her own eyes, and his mouth was now set in a hard line. Her mind reeled. "Uncle…? It can't be…you died. You died in the fall of Gondolin. You caused the fall of Gondolin! You are not real," she looked around, desperately seeking a safe retreat and quickly realizing that the elf had cornered her. "What kind of trick is this?"

"Isobel, daughter of my brother" the elf practically purred her name. "Do not believe everything you have been told. There is greatness in our blood, Isobel. I see it in you. I did not die in Gondolin as you were told. I survived the fall, and I have grown strong since then. I have followed your life Isobel. I watched you in Fangorn. You have my strength, my fury, my greatness. You think you have no family, but you have me. I thought we might spend some time together…"

Isobel narrowed her eyes and shook her head. "NO. This is impossible. I have no family. I don't know who you are, but you are not Maeglin, my uncle, he died long ago. YOU are not HIM" She finally lifted herself from the rock. She dearly wished she had her black sword, how she would wield it against this apparition!

"Do not fear me, Isobel, and do not fight me. I come to you with tidings from the Dark Lord. He wishes for your friendship. He offers you a chance to redeem our bloodline and to rise to the greatness that is your destiny. He does not require much of you Isobel. This is no burden, it is a great honour. I will give you time think on it and leave you this, as a token of the Dark Lord's friendship."

The elf disappeared before Isobel's amazed eyes, leaving in his stead a great black gem. Isobel knelt to look at the gem – a black diamond – but did not touch it. A feeling of foreboding swept of her and she hiked up her gown and rushed back to halls.

****************************************************

She arrived at the entrance to the caverns amid a throng of elves milling around, horses, and packs being carried to and fro. The guard had arrived home. Not wanting to get caught in the fray, she climbed onto a rock set back from the bridge and watched as the host's horses and gear were led away. She welcomed the opportunity to catch her breath and gather her thoughts before returning to the Halls.

From the midst of the group of elves a tall blonde elf broke away and strodetowards Isobel. His powerful frame moved with ease and grace and his face held a warm smile. Isobel forced herself to smile back. She stared at Haldir's face, anxious to take in his open and fair features as though they could replace the image in her mind of the dark apparition she'd encountered.

Haldir tilted his head and looked at her. There was an air of tension around her, he could tell something was amiss. "Mae govannen, Isobel. How do you fare?" He watched as she carefully and unsuccessfully arranged her features to appear calm.

"Mae govannen, Haldir. I have a question for you."

"Of course Mistress Isobel. You may ask me anything."

Isobel inhaled deeply and met his eye. "When do leave? I wish to leave here. May I go with you?"

Haldir blinked. "Six days hence. I would be honoured to have you accompany my host and I. But I must ask, has something happened?"

"Nothing," she replied quickly. "I just…miss home."

Haldir said nothing but nodded in acknowledgement of her answer. He didn't believe her, but now was not the time to press.

"Isobel, allow me to escort you to your quarters. Then I must return. The King's guard has arrived – as you can see – and Feren has asked that I help debrief. But perhaps we could take dinner together this evening. You did promise to tell me more of Fangorn."

Isobel looked up at him gratefully. "Yes, thank you. I would like that."

Haldir extended his hand to help the black haired elf off the stone. He noted a slight tremble in her hand and again shot a concerned sideways glance in her direction. Her face was pale, and she looked shaken. Quite different than when he had seen her earlier. What had happened?

They eased their way through the melee over the bridge and towards the great doors, where Feren greeted them.

"I'm taking Isobel to her quarters and will return presently." Haldir explained. Feren nodded with approval.

"Master Feren, would it be possible to have my sword and my dagger returned to me?" asked Isobel suddenly.

Feren and Haldir stared at her for a moment, both men raised their eyebrows and exchanged a look. "I will speak to the King," said Feren simply and Isobel nodded. She and Haldir walked through the great doors into the amber-lit caverns and turned towards the King's private area and Isobel's quarters.

"Isobel, forgive me for saying but you seem troubled. Is there something I can do to help?"

She glanced at him. What she wanted to say was 'please stay with me and watch over me like you do in Lorien, because I have always felt safe in your view, and right now I feel alone and I'm frightened.' But she said nothing. She stared straight ahead and simply said "I'm overwhelmed by all the elves."

Haldir saw her to the door of her quarters and hesitated. "Isobel, I have survived these many centuries by trusting my instincts and my instincts tell me that something is wrong here. I have to go debrief the Prince's men, but I will return shortly thereafter and I hope you will trust me enough to tell me what has happened."

Isobel opened her mouth as though she were about to say something, but hesitated, and remained silent. She offered Haldir an apologetic smile, and quickly passed through the doorway. Haldir watched her with steady thoughtful eyes, and remained for a moment even after the door had closed behind her. Finally he departed down the hallway towards the King's office where the Thranduil, Legolas, and Feren awaited.

**********************************

The four elves stood facing one another in the King's office. Legolas spoke and the others listened, their faces grim. "What concerns me is that these orcs are coming from the north and the south yet they seem to be working together under one command."

The King listened closely to Legolas' words. The prince and his guards had been gone for five weeks and the news they brought back concerned him greatly.

"How large was the first group that you encountered?" Thranduil asked Legolas.

"The first group was small – 30 – but the second contingent was larger. 40 mountain orcs and 40 orcs wearing a white hand from the south. These southern orcs are different." He caught the eye of each elf. "They are stronger and smarter. More like men, but with the power of darkness upon them."

The elves were silent, each one pondering the gravity of Legolas' words.

"While you were gone, Legolas," began Feren, "I was patrolling our western march when we encountered a similar host of southern orcs. We killed most but spared one for questioning. He wore the white hand too, but we could not get him to say from whence he came. We suspect that the Dark Lord is breeding men with orcs in Mordor, yet when we confronted the prisoner with this, he laughed. He said we could not be more wrong, but he would not say whom he served or where was his master."

"If not the Dark Lord? Who could he be serving?" asked Legolas.

The ellyn remained quiet, each contemplating the riddle this news presented. Finally the King spoke.

"The Dark Lord has many lieutenants ever ready to do his bidding." His attention shifted towards the march warden. "Haldir, what of Lorien?"

Haldir raised his head and took a moment to gather his thoughts before answering. "It is as Legolas says. We have killed many orcs of the white hand. They are skilled fighters, unlike the goblins of the north that rely on numbers, and they also have strength and cunning. At first we thought they were coming from Dol Guldur – and many orcs are - that we know. But the orcs you speak of Master Legolas, are coming from farther south although we have not tracked them beyond Fangorn. They do not enter the forest. We have strengthened our own defenses in response; we fear treachery is afoot in unexpected places."

"There is something more," said Legolas, once again taking the floor. The elves looked at him and Legolas hesitated. Thranduil stepped towards him. "Speak ion nin. What else have you to report?"

"Three nights ago, four members of my guard reported seeing a dark elf near our borders."

Thranduil, Feren, and Haldir frowned, each thinking the same thought, but it had only been one day since Isobel's flee to the eastern marches and Legolas' contingent had been southwest. "How did this elf appear?"

"It was a male, hair as black as coal and eyes grey like ash. Where he stepped the forest was dark, and fell creatures followed him but did not touch him. Indeed they answered his commands. He filled the elves with fear and doom. They confronted him but he disappeared before their eyes."

"An elf cannot make himself invisible," replied Thranduil. "It was clearly a trick. An apparition of some kind, perhaps a skin changer…but this is new menace. What did this elf say?"

"He spoke to none but the arachnids we saw following him. There is one more thing – he wielded a black sword. It sparkled like black water on a moonlit night. It was an elven blade and I have never seen one like it."

Thranduil and Feren exchanged a meaningful look. Haldir and Legolas watched them, questioning. Feren asked the King a silent question and the King nodded.

"The sword you saw is Anguirel, began Feren. "It was wielded by Maeglin in the first age but it was lost when Tuor slew Maeglin at the fall of Gondolin. Its mate is named Anglachel and it is wielded by Maeglin's niece Isobel…she is here, in Mirkwood."

Legolas' eyes widened with shock. "Ada, is this true?" All eyes now turned to Thranduil, except Haldir, who, for the moment, attended to his own thoughts.

Thranduil ignored Legolas' question for the moment, turning his back on the  warriors. Was it possible that Maeglin had survived his fall over the cliff in Gondolin? That he had survived these ages living under the protection of the Dark Lord and his followers? And the most concerning question: Was he now in communication with Isobel?

A shiver ran up his spine although, to the view of others, he stood straight and tall. Thranduil lifted his chin, exhaled and turned to face the three guards. "The niece of Maeglin was detained in my dungeon for one month under suspicions for which she has been cleared."

Legolas opened his mouth to speak, and the King shot him a warning look. The prince remained silent.

"At this time, I am confident of her innocence, however, I think we should speak to her. She may be able to provide more information."

The King spied Haldir, who stood silently, and understood in that moment the concern he must be feeling, for the King felt it too. Feren's face was impassive but stern, and Legolas wore a look of confusion and a hint of anger at having been silenced.

"We will continue this later. For now, I wish to see my son alone."

The elves nodded and left the room without comment. Legolas closed the door behind them and turned around to face his father.

Thranduil's face softened and he stepped forward and enveloped his son in his strong arms. Legolas stood tall, then relaxed into his father's familiar embrace with a smile and slight roll of his eyes. "I missed you too, Ada."

Thranduil stepped back and held his son at arm's length studying his face.

"Ada, why do you do this every time I return from a patrol?"

"Wait till you have children Legolas, and you'll understand." Thranduil finally released his son and walked over to the sofa where he sank down in the soft upholstery. "Come, there is much to tell you, and I would want that you hear it from me."

Legolas raised an eyebrow and took a seat across from his father. "About this dark elf Feren spoke of? Is it true, she is really here?"

Thranduil, exhaled. "Of course it is true. Isobel is the daughter of Halir, the second son of Eöl. She tracked a group of orcs from Lorien north to our border, taking out many of them along the way."

"Surely that is far for an elf from Fangorn to travel?"

"Ah, so you have heard of her?"

Legolas sat up and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees and his hands crossed in front. "I have heard the story of the dark elf who lives in Fangorn, the last of Maeglin's bloodline, but I didn't expect to meet her in Mirkwood. Are you not concerned that the southern orcs of the white hand are from Fangorn?"

Thranduil gave Legolas a wry smile. "No ion, that is one thing I do not worry about. There are creatures in that forest far older than us and they do not suffer orcs. Isobel's residing in Fangorn is testimony to her character, for she could not survive it without a treaty of sorts with the ents, and that could not happen if she was in service to the Enemy. When Feren found Isobel, she was about to be slaughtered by the orcs he mentioned, having tried to save one of our own. We thought she had killed the elf herself or at the very least was in league with the orc host. She was cleared when a witness came forth just a few days ago."

"A witness? Why did they not come forth sooner?"

"Our witness is a young elleth, Legolas. It was her naneth that was killed, shortly after the orcs killed her adar. Amdir is only 15 years old. She fled and was found by the Lorien guard. The rest you will already know from speaking to Haldir."

Legolas sat back on the sofa and exhaled, shaking his head. "Ada, it seems very…"

Thranduil cut him off. "I know how it would seem, but what it seems and what it is are different and I would trust you to see that," he said sharply.

The younger elf tilted his head and narrowed his eyes, staring at his father. "Ada, is there something you're not telling me? What is your relationship to this Fangorn elf?"

Thranduil leveled a glare on his son that would silence most elves but Legolas knew his father well enough and was undeterred. "Ada?" he pressed.

"You overstep your mark, young one."

Legolas gave his father a hard look. "I am not as young as you think."

Thranduil stood up and walked to his desk. "We are not having this conversation," he said curtly. "I will question Isobel myself. For now," he paused, and a small smile spread across his face as he looked at his son. "I am happy you're back safely. Tell me more of your time away..."

 

 


	6. Silver Linings

Isobel lay curled on the sofa in front of the carved marble fireplace in her quarters. The fire was lit and cast a warm glow in the room, dispelling the chill that threatened to encroach now that twilight was falling. Wrapped in a blanket, she watched the fire lick the edges of the wood.

The room smelt of the apple that Isobel's helper had placed in the fire earlier. She closed her eyes and her mind wandered to her dark, unexpected visitor. It was much to believe that her uncle had survived all this time, yet it was impossible that Eru would have returned him to Middle Earth after death like the majestic Glorfindel.

Her first instinct was to flee, but there was a side of her that, should she have the courage to admit it to herself, was intrigued. Family. Someone of her own blood. How she had longed for a family, but surely this was not how it was meant to happen? She shook her head. No, it was not her uncle – it was a dark trick. Someone who understood her weakness and preyed on them. They likely wanted information from her, thus she must leave here and return to Fangorn whose borders were protected by a power older and more powerful than anywhere else on Middle-earth. To stay would put the elves of Mirkwood at risk. But Thranduil… She felt certain he could protect her, but was less certain as to whether or not he would want to.

A shiver ran down her spine and she pulled the blanket around her. As long as she was alone she was not safe, and whatever she chose to do, she would not sit cowering in her bedroom, not while this malice was afoot. No, she owed it to the King, to those she'd met (including Haldir) to warn them and get to the bottom of it. And if it was her task to fight whatever it was that had confronted her today, she knew she could not do it alone. She would find the King and tell him everything.

Her mind made up, she quickly rose, and made her way to the door. She opened it to find the King standing there, his hand raised, about to knock.

"My lord. I was coming to find you."

"May I?"

Isobel stepped aside as Thranduil entered the room. He spied the blanket on the sofa and turned to look at her. "You were resting?" he asked.

"Thinking. There is something that I must speak to you about."

Thranduil looked at her. Her eyes met his fleetingly and her mouth was set in a thin line. He noticed a slight tremble in her long hand. "Isobel, has something happened?"

She stilled, and stared up at him, frowning. She slowly nodded. "Yes," she said quietly. "I'm afraid it has."

Thranduil felt his heart sink and hoped against hope that whatever had frightened her, whatever it was she wanted to speak with him about, had nothing to do with the appearance of Maeglin to the elven guard. He motioned to the sofa. "Sit down before the fire, you know have nothing to fear in unburdening yourself to me."

She nodded her head and took her seat, while he took the chair beside and pulled it closer so he could face her better. He looked at her silently, concern etched on his face.

She took a shaky breath and began. "A few hours ago, I met Feren. I wished to walk in the forest and he escorted me along the path. After a time he had to return so I walked on alone until I came to a pool. I laid on the rocks and closed my eyes for a time and when I opened them, I was not alone."

Thranduil sat still, watching Isobel's face as she spoke. She didn't look at him, she stared into the fire and the orange light reflected in her silver eyes.

"Who was there?" he asked softly. Slowly she turned her head and looked at him. He saw the fear in her eyes and knew her answer before she said it. He leaned forward and took her hand. "Isobel, please tell me, who was there?"

"Maeglin." She waited for his reaction, when she saw there was none, a look of confusion crossed her face. "My lord, I mean my Uncle Maeglin."

The King's face remained stoic. "Yes, I know who you mean." He sat back in the chair taking a moment to think. She had told him openly, honestly. There was no lie in her eyes. He leaned forward, once again studying her face searchingly. "Did he speak?"

Isobel's face grew grim, and she pulled her hand back. She slowly nodded. "Yes, but I do not wish to tell you what he said…I don't think you will want me to remain here."

"Try me."

She took a deep breath and looked away from him. "He said that he survived Gondolin and he… well, he asked me to join him."

"Join him where?"

Isobel hesitated. "In service, my lord, service to the Enemy. He left me a gift as a token of the Dark Lord's…" she could not continue. Her body trembled and she could not meet the King's eye such was her shame.

"Of his friendship." Thranduil finished the sentence for her and she buried her face in her hands.

"I am sorry, I am so sorry, I don't know how he found me, I don't know even what he is – he disappeared all at once and I returned here…and I know that it was reckless to return here, that I have endangered you and the elves and I--"

"What gift did he leave?" The King interrupted her and she paused. She took a cleansing breath and, reminding herself that she was in the presence of a king, mastered her emotions.

"I did not take it. It was a black diamond. I left it by the pool."

"Did you touch it?"

The dark haired elf shook her head no and Thranduil exhaled with relief.

She met his eyes steadily. "Please know that I wish you no harm. I did not mean to bring such malice to the Woodland Realm. I can leave immediately for I am sure the danger will depart with me." She stood up and walked over to the fireplace. She lightly touched the vase of autumn wildflowers on the mantle and studied them for a moment. "Of course I will leave with your permission, my lord. And know that I will return home, I will not speak to anyone of Mirkwood." She turned to look at Thranduil who had risen with her and now stood watching her, searching her face, and reading her body language. She did not blame him for his doubt. "You saved my life once, I would not betray you now."

Thranduil stood still and silent. The danger belonged to Mirkwood with or without Isobel. There was no reason for her to depart, indeed the thought of it cut him like a knife in his gut, but after their conversation this morning, could he still convince her to stay? There was only one way, he realized. Honesty. He exhaled, not taking his eyes off Isobel. "This is why you would not betray me? Because my guard saved your life? Is there not another reason?" he asked quietly.

She stood still, staring at him. She took in his powerful warrior frame, and the way the fire light reflected in his braided silver hair. Her eyes paused on his full bow lips, the straight line of his nose and, finally, on his clear blue eyes, framed in dark lashes and heavy brows. In that moment he was the most heartbreakingly beautiful thing she'd ever seen. After their conversation this morning, she had still hoped, but now she knew she would lose him, and the realization shattered her. No doubt he expected her to speak now of friendship, as though friendship alone could make her stay in Mirkwood, but it could not, and if she had to depart, she reasoned, she would not leave him in doubt of her true feelings.

She closed the gap between them and reached out, taking his face in her hands. She kissed one side of his face and then the other. She kissed his chin, his neck, and ran her hands over his shoulders. All the while he stood still, his hands remained at his sides, and he watched her.

"Because I care for you, I would protect you, not bring harm to you, I would not bring harm to anything you cared about. Now that I must leave I understand how much I wish to stay. How much I will miss the chance to have known you. To have… loved you." Her voice caught.

Thranduil blinked. His façade fell and something within the deepest most hidden part of him shifted. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to receive her kisses. With a groan, his wound arms around her and ran his hands up her back. Intoxicated by her feel, her scent, and the unexpected honesty of her words. He leaned down and kissed her neck, ears and finally his lips found what they sought and he kissed her mouth hungrily. As the kiss deepened, he picked her up and carried her to the sofa. "You are going nowhere," he growled in her ear as he laid her down.

He tangled his hand in her silken hair and gently pulled her head back, nipping her bottom lip with his teeth. She moaned softly when he ran his tongue along her collarbone and he held her wrists in one hand and lifted them above her head. His other hand travelled down the neck of her gown, exposing her breast and gently brushing a taut pink nipple. Isobel arched her back against him, her breath shallow, and her excitement building as she inhaled his masculine scent and tried to fill the space between their bodies.

A knock sounded at the door. Isobel stiffened. "Ignore it," whispered Thranduil in her ear, sending shivers down her body. She almost gave in to the delicious feel of Thranduil's lips on her skin and his comforting weight when she remembered her dinner plans with a start: "Haldir!"

"What?" Thranduil pulled back to look at her, his eyes dark with lust, his breath ragged.

"It's Haldir, my lord."

Haldir did not concern him. He gently caressed her breast and he bowed his head to gently tease her sensitive nipple with his tongue. "Don't call me that," he nuzzled her.

"Haldir?" She closed her eyes as her breath caught.

"My lord." He drew back and looked at her, his nostrils flared and his eyes where aflame. All he could think when he looked at her was 'mine.'

"What should I call you?" she breathed, ignoring the door for the moment and pulling a hand out of his grip to explore his back and shoulders. She could feel his desire pressing into her, and she leaned up to kiss him once more, her mouth opened to his probing tongue, and she rolled her hips into him, inviting him to explore her further.

Haldir knocked again, more insistently. "Isobel!" he called. "Are you in there?"

"My name, Isobel, call me my name," he slid her grown over her shoulders exposing another breast, but she sat up, gently pushing him back. Her heart pounded against her ribcage as she closed her eyes and tried to focus.

"My lo--Thranduil, he knows I'm here. If I don't answer, he'll be worried. He'll probably call for the guard."

Thranduil gentled his hands, and pressed his forehead to her forehead, catching his breath. She was right. He looked down at her, her eyes glinted like silver fire and her reddened lips parted as her eyes darted down to his mouth with longing. He could smell her musky scent through her grown, he knew she was ready for him. He swore under his breath and pulled back.

"Tell him you're not ready," he said huskily. "That you'll meet him in the great hall shortly."

"But…"

"Tell him."

Isobel rose on unsteady legs and went to the door, smoothing her hair and fixing her gown. She opened the door an inch to Haldir's handsome face. He smiled down at her and her heart sank. "I'm sorry, Haldir, I am quite unwell. I will not dine with you tonight, after all."

Haldir looked at her face and frowned. "You look flushed Isobel. Are you all right?"

"I am, just a lot of excitement. Too much, I think."

Haldir's gaze swept over her, and paused for an instant at the flush of her chest before quickly meeting her eyes again. "Sleep Isobel. I will send you some food and check on you tomorrow." He offered her a heart stopping smile. She forced herself to smile back, and with a small goodbye, closed the door, and leaned against it.

Thranduil sat on the sofa, his leg languidly draped across his knee, and his countenance fully restored. His son's voice echoed in his head 'what is your relationship with her?' A very good question. This morning he thought he knew, but in truth, he couldn't stay away from her.

She walked back to the couch and sat down beside him, turning her chest towards him. He pivoted towards her and placed his forehead against hers, his thumbs stroked her cheekbones. 'You are mine,' he said inside her head. 'I am yours,' she replied silently.

His elegant fingers tilted her chin up to him and he looked down into her eyes. "You will stay here, and I will protect you."

She began to protest but Thranduil rubbed his thumb across her mouth, silencing her words.

"Listen to me now Isobel. You are not the only one who has seen that malicious apparition," he said. "I do not believe it is your uncle. I believe something much worse is happening and as I have told you before, I would keep you safe."

"But you would keep me a secret," she replied.

"Does that really matter?"

"It matters to me. It would have mattered to my father to my mother."

The King sighed. "Yes, yes of course." He sat back on the couch, his hand rested in her lap and he smiled to himself as she enclosed it in her own. "Isobel, only 24 hours ago, you very reluctantly agreed let me bring you back from the eastern march. Today you had a terrible scare. You must be exhausted and overwhelmed. Let me comfort you, I will stay here with you tonight and tomorrow we'll decide what we want this to be."

Isobel shook her head wearily. "I am so tired, I cannot think."

"Then do not feel badly, for you did not lie to Haldir. You could not have gone. Now lean against me and tell me about your life in Fangorn. Tell me what you would have told Haldir."

Isobel curled up against Thranduil, laying her head against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her and willed his body to behave.

Thranduil's presence kept the darkness of Maeglin's visit at bay and Isobel felt calmer knowing he was with her. She smiled softly. "What I would have told Haldir…how about what I would tell the hunter in the painting, for I know he'd understand."

Thranduil smiled. "Yes, the hunter in the painting. Much better. What would you tell him of your life?"

"First I would ask him, won't he be missed if he spends his evening listening to my stories?"

Thranduil gave a small chuckle. "Not if the hunter already withdrew for a private dinner alone for the night."

Isobel grinned. "Okay then, I would tell him that Fangorn is beautiful in all its seasons. With carpets of wildflowers in the spring and soft mossy beds in the autumn. Hidden waterfalls that sparkle in the starlight and when they wish to be found, they sing to you. I'd tell him about the sense of connection one feels with every living thing in the forest. As though, if you try, you can see the forest through the eyes of a squirrel or hummingbird. Yes, I think he'd understand that. There is a pulse to Fangorn, an energy that permeates your body and before you've spent but a summer under its boughs, your heart beat in sync with the wings of the sparrow and your blood flows like a spring stream.

"In the summer I could easily sleep in some of the old flets, but when it was cooler, or rainy, I would take refuge in a cabin, much like in the manner of men I imagine. I read books, and sang, and walked among the trees, often seeking their guidance or simply enjoying their company. It is warmer than here of course, so the forest green is different. Very lush, very old." Her voice trailed off…

Thranduil gently moved Isobel over and got up to feed the fire. "Did you ever see other elves when you were there?"

Isobel offered a sad smile. "No, it is beautiful but it did get lonely. Sometimes the White Wizard would walk through the forest; Isengard is very close. But I was shy of him. I would watch him from a distance, and often he would leave me gifts. Books, pencils, thread. One time he left me a map of the stars. I haven't seen him in a few years now…"

Thranduil settled back on the couch and pulled the blanket up over their legs. She leaned back into him with a sigh. As much as she tried to stay alert, her eyelids were heavy and her mind was beginning to wander, skimming the edge of a viridian forest dreamscape.

"Close your eyes, Isobel. Sleep against me like you did last night while we traveled. You're safe."

A few minutes later her breathing deepened and slowed, and Thranduil kissed the top of her head then laid his own head back against the sofa pillows and sighed. He was surprised to learn that she had a connection to Isengard. Something about that played in the back of his mind, but he let it go for the time being.

By the Valar, he was starving. Didn't Haldir say he would send food? Thranduil smirked. Perhaps not very kingly behavior, he reflected. But tonight he was the hunter and it felt good just to relax with this beautiful, odd and unpredictable elf. The dark elf of Fangorn, he mused. MY dark elf of Fangorn? It would be hard to go back on it now. While he had not quite made a declaration, his behaviour spoke volumes, surprising even himself.

He gently moved Isobel over, careful not to jostle her awake, and extricated himself from the sofa. With a fond look back at the peacefully sleeping elf, he left the room, softly closing the door behind him to find some food.

20 Minutes later he discreetly returned to Isobel's quarters carrying a basket of fare and a flagon of wine. The cooks were surprised to see him in the pantry and filled the basket for him, their eyes wide that he would carry it himself. "You did not see me, I was never here." He told them sternly.

He put the basket and the wine down on the table by her bed. Fruit, lembas, cashews and an assortment of seeds. Then he gently lifted Isobel from the sofa and carried her over to the bed, laying her down softly against the pillows. He silently returned to the sofa and began to fold the blanket.

"Thranduil," He paused at the sound of her voice calling his name.

"Are you leaving?"

"No meleth. I promised you I'd stay so you would feel safe."

Isobel propped herself up on her elbow, and playful smile crossed her lips and she echoed his earlier question: "I see. So your promise is the only reason you stay? Have you not another reason?"

A slow smile bloomed across the King's face and he shook his head slowly, ready to reciprocate. "Indeed, it is not…" He turned back to her and his smile shifted to something more serious, his face intense with emotion.

"I would stay because I care for you, I would protect you with my body, with my army, and with my life." His eyes never left her face, his step as he moved towards her was graceful and fluid. "I would not bring harm to you," he continued. "It is only now that I understand how much I wish to stay. How much I want to know you, how much I could love you." He reached out and touched her cheek. Isobel's eyes shone as he sat on the bed beside her and kissed her, then he pulled back and, shaking his head, offered a rueful smile. "And elf could easily get lost in you, Isobel."

"And a king?"

"A king would be in grave danger indeed."

The two elves smiled, and before the silence grew awkward, the King poured them some wine and together they ate the food, talking about their experiences and sharing stories well into the night. At some point, they fell asleep, Thranduil's arms wrapped tightly around Isobel, and there they stayed till the dawn light crept through the crystal door from the veranda.


	7. Captain of the Guard

Isobel awoke to the warmth of the sun filtering through the sheer white curtains of her willow bed. Beside her the bed was empty but for a note and a glittering black sheathed sword laying against the pillow.

Isobel (he wrote),

I have business to attend today.

The return of your sword will help you feel safer when outside the palace. Please do not leave the palace alone. Ask either Feren or Tauriel to attend you.

I arranged a meeting today between you and my advisor and healer, Tirathuil, in my solar at two past noon. She looks forward to meeting you.

Thranduil O.

Isobel put the note aside and looked carefully at her sword. Anglachel, would you protect me even against your mate?" she asked it, gently unsheathing the glittering black blade and holding it up in the soft sunlight. She smiled. With her sword at her side, she could return to exploring outside the kingdom without fear. She was restless and longed to run, to stretch her legs and feel the rush of the fresh air in her lungs. She sheathed her sword and carefully laid it aside.

Rising from the bed she spied a tray of food on the table near the sofa and, instead of yet another gown, there was a green hunting tunic and brown leggings hung on the wall near the grotto. She beamed. Thranduil may not have written her a novel, but his thoughtfulness brought a flush to her cheek. Yesterday's events seemed very far away and her heart lifted. Today she would explore Mirkwood feeling like herself!

After a quick dip in the rockpool, she dressed in the new tunic and leggings, braided her hair and attached her sword to her waist. She checked herself in the mirror and smiled at the pretty elleth smiling back. A Mirkwood elleth, she mused. Her smile grew. She grabbed an apple as she passed the tray and made her way down the hall, out to the massive cavern and towards the main doors of the palace.

The elves turned to watch her as she passed at a quick clip, her step light and jaunty and a small smile on her lips. Not wishing to complicate her morning, she took the lower walkways to avoid the main dais where she imagined the King sat receiving visitors. Does he think of me, she wondered. She was unsure what was expected of her after the night they'd shared, but knowing he was busy, it was easier to avoid thinking about it for the time being, and simply revel in the beauty of her new surroundings and her freedom to explore.

As she crossed one of the lower walkways, a group of four elves entered the narrow passageway and turned in her direction. Her heart leapt when she saw that it was the King. She smiled ruefully; it would seem that she couldn't avoid him even when she wanted to. He walked beside Feren and was deeply absorbed in conversation. Behind him walked a tall slender blonde elf with the same silver hair and regal bearing, and beside him, the red-headed elven guard, Tauriel.

Isobel hesitated, but it was too late to go back. She straightened he shoulders and waited for the small group to meet her.

Feren was the first to see Isobel. He paused mid-speech causing Thranduil to also look up.

Isobel bowed quickly and lifted her face with a bright smile for the King.

Thranduil looked back at her blankly, his face did not change.

Isobel's smile fell.

He turned his attention back to Feren and barely looked at her as he passed.

The blonde elf looked at her curiously and Tauriel offered the faintest wisp of a smile as they continued on.

Isobel stood, silently watching them. He heart hammered in her chest, and heat rose in her face. She slowly turned away and back towards the main entrance, shoulders curled towards her chest and wrapping her arms around herself. She picked up the pace, eager to put as much distance between herself and the object of her humiliation as she could.

She barely spared a glance for the shimmering rivers and streams of the palace interior as she headed back up the stairs towards the heavy doors of the Kingdom. She emerged blinking into the bright sunshine of the forest. The air was cool and crisp and the mist of the river below settled on her cheeks. There was a gentle wind that carried the scent of pine needles and damp leaves. She breathed deeply, filling her lungs and allowing the fresh air to still the tears that threatened to escape so she could regain her composure.

She looked up, taking in the cloudless sky, and decided she would think about the incident later. Today was too beautiful to ruin. Looking around, she spotted Haldir by the guardhouse, talking to the Mirkwood guards on duty. She smiled at him. He'd already noted her arrival and, nodding to his companions, walked over to greet her.

"Mae govannen Isobel! You look very hale today – much rested!"

His friendliness lifted her heart and Isobel gratefully smiled up at him, "Thank you Haldir. I feel much better. I am so sorry about last night…"

He brushed off her apology with a wave of his hand. "And where are you off to, sword by your side?"

"Actually, I'm not to go anywhere without an escort as per the King," her words trailed off and she bit her lip.

"Would you be, by chance Mistress, in need of said escort?" he asked with mock seriousness.

Isobel looked up at him and laughed. "Um, yes, I believe I am, but unfortunately Feren and Tauriel are now with the King."

"Feren and Tauriel? And may not a lowly march warden of Lothlorien be up to the task?" he asked, feigning hurt, his blue eyes twinkling, and a playful challenge in his eyes.

A slow smile spread across Isobel's face. "Well, in my experience, the march wardens of Lorien have been unable to keep up with Fangorn's Captain of the Guard."

"Captain of the Guard? Indeed! And, tell me, how big is the elven guard of Fangorn, Mistress Captain?"

"Well…one, to be exact, but it's hard to keep track of the numbers with so strong a force, but of course, this is confidential information I share. I trust it shall not fall into the wrong hands..."

At this Haldir tilted his head back and laughed loudly, attracting the attention of the other guards. He cleared his throat to regain composure though his lips twitched in amusement. "I accept this intelligence as a token of neighbourly friendship between Fangorn and Lorien. One moment please, Captain…" He walked back over to the guard house, still chuckling to himself.

Isobel waited patiently as he chatted with one of the solders, who promptly went inside of the guard house and emerged carrying two bows and two quivers of arrows. Haldir took them and returned to Isobel, handing her one of the bows.

"How are you with a bow, Isobel?"

"Middling, I'm afraid. I can use a bow to hunt but I'm not as good with one in combat. I lack training."

Haldir raised an eyebrow. "Well, it is not appropriate weather for open warfare today – too sunny," he teased. "Thus I thought we might try our hands at hunting small game instead. Give you a chance to stretch your legs," he added with an understanding smile.

Isobel closed her eyes, embarrassed. "Right, avoid open warfare, go hunting. Got it," she said.

Haldir laughed. "Shall we?" he asked gallantly extending his arm.

She smiled and accepted it, her upset disappearing in the comfort of Haldir's open nature and easy conversation. They headed out to the open forest together, swords at their sides and bows at the ready should a squirrel or martin cross their path.

"Should you need me to walk slower, do alert me," he teased. "After all, it's not every day the Captain of the Fangorn Guard can keep up with the Captain of of the Lothlorien March Wardens."

Isobel's eyes opened wide. "Is that so, Master Haldir? Let's try shall we?"

She took off like a bolt and Haldir watched her for a moment, shaking his head with a wide grin. Spending this time with her seemed surreal, and she was proving more pleasant than he had ever imagined her when he'd watched her in Lorien. With a start he realized he was about to lose the challenge and leapt into action, sprinting behind her into the dark evergreen of Mirkwood.

He caught up with her a few minutes later as she stood at the edge of a stream, waiting for him, a triumphant smirk on her face.

"So it is true: Isobel, Captain of Fangorn, is too strong a foe for me."

She laughed. "Or perhaps she merely had a head start and the Captain of the March Wardens is being kind."

He shook his head, walking to the edge of the stream and standing beside her. "I don't think so, march wardens are warriors, rarely kind." He arched a brow and she grinned.

"Yes, that is what I heard, it's why I was so shy to meet you."

Haldir grew serious and turned to her. "Why were you so shy to meet us, if I may be so bold as to ask?"

She turned away and started to walk along the banks of the stream, deftly stepping over the brush. He followed her.

"The Lady was kin to my grandmother Aradhel. I'm sure you've heard the stories, of how my grandfather Eol killed his wife accidentally while trying to kill his own son, Maeglin. The King of Gondolin - my great uncle Turgon- put my grandfather to death. Maeglin was never the same and turned to Morgoth. There is much darkness in my blood, Haldir."

"Do you think of your grandfather or uncle often?"

"Yes. I never know whether I should be proud to be a granddaughter of the house of Eol or ashamed. He was kin to the King and a just and noble lord who loved his wife. I don't know what possessed him to do what he tried to do to his son, but he did not wish to harm his wife. Of that I am sure. Perhaps he saw an evil in Maeglin that we did not. Or perhaps it was the shock of his own father trying to take his life that made him turn." She shivered with the recollection of yesterday's encounter, the image Maeglin's eyes, bright and very much alive, in her mind. "And so, I couldn't not be assured that your Lord and Lady would allow me to entrance to Lothlorien." 

Haldir listened quietly, letting her lead the way, watching her lithe form move gracefully over downed trees and rocks. She looked back at him and caught his eye. "I know it was wrong not to give them the benefit of the doubt, Haldir, but when you've lived alone for as long as I did, it's easy to lose perspective of such things."

He shook his head. "No Isobel, I don't think it's foolish. But you speak of living alone in the past tense. Do you plan to return to Fangorn?"

She paused and looked up. "I haven't thought about it, but my heart tells me no. I like this," she motioned around her. "The elves and the interaction and the King--"

"The King?" he interrupted, his brow furrowed. "I've noticed he takes an interest in you Isobel."

She stared up at him surprised, then looked away, saying nothing.

Haldir exhaled, watching her carefully. "Isobel," he began. "It may not be my place, but--"

"You are correct," she replied harshly, feeling inexplicably defensive. "It's not your place."

"But you are not used to elves, Isobel, let alone life in a court such as Thranduil's. All I'm saying is be wary. You are not the only elleth I've seen attract the King's attention."

"Enough Haldir! I have survived this long without your assistance, I hardly need it now."

He blinked, and she saw the hurt register in his eyes. His face instantly went blank, guarded.

"Haldir, I'm sorry," she stepped towards him then stopped. "I didn't mean that, but why say such things to me?"

He paused. "You are right Isobel. It is not my business." He was quiet a moment then turned to her earnestly. "It's just that I see something in you and I have been around elven kingdoms all my life. I would not have you hurt."

She reached out and put her hand on her arm, looking up into his face. "Haldir, I'm fortunate to have your concern. Sometimes I get defensive too quickly. You are right, I am not used to this place."

His face softened and he smiled, although his eyes were still guarded. "Of course, Isobel, I just…." He voiced trailed off, then he shook his head and turned away from her, stepping across a bridge of stones to the other side of the river.

She watched him, biting the inside of her cheek, frowning.

He turned back to her. "Having trouble keeping up, Captain?" he flashed her a grin that sweetened into an understanding smile. He put his hand out. "Do you need my assistance?" he said kindly.

Finally she smiled back, raising her eyes to him shyly, and nodded her head. "Thank you, perhaps I could use some assistance after all."

He nodded at her with approval and his smile grew as he took her hand and led her across the stream. They looked at each other for a heartbeat, and she knew she was forgiven.

************************************************************

A few hours later the sun was high in the sky and they were making their way back to the palace. Haldir carried a deer across his shoulders and Isobel carried two rabbits.

"If that is your idea of small game, Master Haldir," she said, looking at the deer, "I can't imagine what you catch when you hunt big game."

"Oliphants," he answered, not even cracking a smile. Isobel stared at him, eyes wide, but Haldir's lips twitched, giving him away. She swatted his arm playfully and he broke out into laughter.

As they walked along the road, she spied movement out of the corner of her eye. She raised her eyebrows at Haldir who nodded his head no; he had enough to carry.

She grinned and silently placed the rabbits on the ground. With a wink at Haldir, she slowly crept into the brush to spy her prey, another fat white rabbit. It jumped over a rotting tree log then sat still on its hind legs, looking around, its nose twitching.

Isobel knelt, partially concealed by a large oak trunk, and silently strung her bow. As she bent it toward the rabbit, a flash of light on the forest floor caught her eye. She turned her head and the rabbit bounded away.

Cursing under her breath, Isobel lowered her bow and surveyed the forest floor. The flash caught her eye again. Her stomach churned and she stepped back. There, in the grass, was the black diamond. She unsheathed her sword and looked around nervously.

"Maeglan?" she whispered.

She could hear the sounds of dry leaves hopelessly churning in the wind and the rush of water, a long way off. Yet behind these ordinary forest sounds, was a deep and breathless silence. She felt the oxygen leave her lungs as her beautiful black haired uncle stepped out from the shadows.

"So now you seek me, niece, I thought you might," he said with a menacing smile, silently stepping towards her. She held her sword strong before her and he looked at it with interest. "Anguirel's twin, it has been long since I have seen it. Two swords hewn from the same darkness. I have always wondered, are they equal or does one command the other?" His eyes bore into Isobel's own. His lips turned up in an evil grin.

Isobel's eyes narrowed and her grip relaxed on the hilt as her body prepared for battle. "Who ARE you?" She stepped in time with him in a deadly dance, stepping back when he stepped forward, stepping right when he stepped left, but always facing him.

He lifted his chin and smiled at her approvingly. "My niece, ever fair, ever courageous. You do me proud. Have you considered my offer?" he asked, his voice as silken as luminous water over a smooth rock.

Isobel resisted the urge to relax into the sound his melodious voice. She lifted her sword higher. "Your offer? You have made me no offer worth considering." She spat at him.

Maeglin exhaled, momentarily showing his impatience. "Would you fight me niece?" he asked quietly, slowly unsheathing his matching black sword. "Would you really have me slay you? You, daughter of my brother, who are entitled to such glory, and such power."

She suddenly felt fatigued and wanted nothing more than to lower her weapon and sit down and listen to him speak. Her sword felt heavy in her hand and she faltered.

Fog clouded her thoughts. As time fell away, memories of her father and mother overtook her. It occurred to her how much Maeglin looked like her father, and then it was as though her father were talking to her and her heart bounded with joy.

"Come home Isobel," he said. "Come with me." Now he held out his hand and Isobel looked with confused interest, it held the glittering black diamond. As Isobel stared at it, she could see a white fire within it, like starlight. Memory and longing coursed through her and she felt overcome with dizziness and the need to sleep. Then there was another voice; it sounded very far away, yet it was familiar somehow, and Isobel strained to hear it above the sound of the rushing blood in her head.

"Isobel! Enough! We must return!" Haldir shouted from the road.

She blinked, startled. All of a sudden the confusion fled from her mind and her senses rushed back to her.

"NO!" She lunged forward and swung her sword at the malicious elf. With a wolfish grin he parried the blow. The two black swords met with a mighty clash that shocked the birds from the trees and reverberated through the forest floor.

Isobel retreated as Maeglin advanced, and finally countered with a low swing. Anglachel cut through the air with deadly intent but Anguirel blocked it mid-stream. Sparks flew as the two swords, hewn from the same meteorite, continued their lethal reunion.

Gleaming with malice, Maeglin easily overpowered Isobel, and pressing forward, he cut a deep welt across her collar bone. She fell backwards and he raised his sword again.

Suddenly Haldir leapt into the clearing, his sword flashed blindingly in the sunlight. Maeglin swung around to meet him, Anguirel raised.

The warriors collided with an explosion of strength and steel. Haldir stood his ground, advancing on Maeglin who swung hard. Haldir dodged and thrust low, piercing Maeglin's abdomen.

Feeling recovered, Isobel leapt to her feet and raised her sword to cover Haldir's left side.

Maeglin jumped back, his free hand covering his wound, 'Not yet, niece, not till I have what I want from you," he said, and with a flash, he disappeared.

Isobel leapt forward into the void he'd left. "Where are you?" she screamed into the displaced air that still glittered with movement, swinging her sword around, her eyes wild. "Come back you coward!"

"No Isobel!" yelled Haldir. "Lower your sword, he's gone!"

"He cannot be gone!" she countered furiously. "We must find him!"

"ISOBEL!" Haldir yelled sharply.

She froze, her sword still held high. He reached out and gently lowered her arm. She stood trembling, her eyes continually surveyed the forest, and her was chest dark red with blood from the welt.

"Look at me." He commanded.

"Where is he?" she repeated. "We must find him."

The March Warden surveyed her, his eyes calm from centuries of training and combat experience. She was losing too much blood and he recognized the signs of shock.

"Look At Me," he repeated, raising his voice slightly. Isobel finally turned her wild eyes to him.

"Focus on my face Isobel," he waited until her eyes focused. "Now breathe," he commanded.

She took a deep breath and exhaled. She suddenly fell to her knees and threw up in the grass. Haldir knelt beside her, holding her shoulders and patting her back. "You're safe, hiril vuin," he said gently. "Look at me again, now breathe…" She nodded and inhaled again, this time exhaling more slowly. Her shoulders began to relax and he laid her down in the grass.

Haldir peeled off his tunic and rolled it into a ball. He pressed it against her collarbone to stop the flow the blood. "Keep looking at me, keep breathing deep." He kept his eyes glued to her, talking to her, encouraging her.

Isobel's teeth had begun to chatter. "Hello March Warden," she said with a weak smile. "So much for no open warfare…I feel dizzy…"

Haldir frowned. "We need to get you to Tira." He scooped her up in his arms and headed back to the palace, leaving the deer and rabbits abandoned on the path.

He now knew that Isobel's uncle was no apparition. He was as real as the blood that flowed from Isobel's chest. His stomach clenched but he continued moving.

Whatever the reason for his evil, no amount of skilled Mirkwood guards could stop Maeglin – he had grown too powerful in his time with the Dark Lord. It would take a power as deep and encompassing as the Lady of the Light's to keep him at bay. Haldir knew that no wizard nor lord could permeate Lorien's protection. Not even Sauron himself. Isobel must return with him to Lorien, as soon as she could travel. First he'd see Isobel to Tira's healing house. Then he'd see King Thranduil.

****************************************************

Feren and Prince Legolas were chatting about the guard schedule when Legolas looked up to see Haldir rushing towards the palace carrying another elf. Legolas frowned and Feren put down the list of guards he'd been scanning. The two elves sprinted across the bridge to meet Haldir.

"She is injured," was all Haldir could say as he handed the limp elf to Feren and sank to his knees in exhaustion, laboring to catching his breath.

"What happened?" Feren asked adjusting Isobel in his own arms, trying his best not to jostle her. She had a greyish pallor to her face and her eyes were closed, unconscious rather than sleeping.

"Her uncle, Maeglin. He is real. Skilled in both swordplay and the black arts. I came too late…"

Legolas knelt down and put his arms under Haldir's own, helping him up. "Nay Haldir. Tira will heal her." He shot a worried glance towards Feren who rushed Isobel inside the halls, shouting orders to the guards as he passed.

One of the guards ran over and handed Haldir a water skin. Haldir nodded his thanks and took a long, restorative swallow. "Hanon le Belendir. Legolas, I must go with Isobel, then I must speak with the King."

Legolas nodded, and without further conversation led Haldir inside the Halls of the Woodland Realm where they followed Feren down to the healing rooms.

By the time the two elves arrived, Isobel lay on the bed and Tira was lightly touching her skin every few inches, checking for injury, her eyes closed.

Haldir entered the room but stood back, letting the healer do her work, his stern face taking in every detail. He knew the danger was greater than it looked. If Maeglin's power was strong enough, she could fall into a dark shadow from which few elves survived. Even now Isobel's face was pale and her breathing shallow, but at least it looked like the bleeding had stopped.

Finally Tira opened her eyes and exhaled. She looked up and met Haldir's anxious blue eyes. She smiled and nodded, and Haldir exhaled in relief.

"There is no sign of poison, but she has lost blood and is very weak. I will regulate her body temperature and her blood pressure and it'd be best to keep her in a deep sleep."

"Has she been…touched?"

Tira hesitated, frowning as she looked at her patient. "I do not know. I don't sense darkness upon her, but if so, we will know soon."

A young elleth entered the room with a basin of sweet smelling water with white flowers floating in it. The air in the room lightened and Haldir breathed deeply. The scent was uplifting and calming, and he felt a tendril of worry relax in his neck.

"Prince Legolas, Master Haldir, if you will excuse me, I must clean her wounds and do not intend to injure her modesty." Legolas turned to leave but Haldir made no move. Tira raised her eyebrows at him, still he hesitated.

"Perhaps I could send for you when I am finished?" she asked with a small, understanding smile.

Haldir nodded and returned the smile appreciatively. "Thank you mistress, I would be most grateful."

Finally he followed Legolas out the door and he stood against the stone wall, gathering his thoughts.

Legolas looked at him. "You stay here, I will tell my father what happened."

Haldir straightened up. "Thank you Legolas, but I will go with you. Isobel is in good hands here and there is much to tell the King."

****************************************************

The two elves waited in Thranduil's study. Haldir had stopped only long enough to fetch a tunic and now stood still, eyes closed, clearing his mind in preparation for his interview with the King.

Legolas, in contrast, stood at the door to the veranda, staring out into the massive brown tree trunks, now bare. His eyes were clear and his thoughts shuttered to everyone but him.

The door opened and both elves turned around as the King entered. Haldir offered a nod.

The King's eyes studied Haldir for a moment – he looked exhausted - then fell upon his son, who looked back at him with a concerned frown.

"What has happened?" he asked, not bothering to sit.

"Mistress Isobel has been injured," said Haldir.

The King blinked and his face paled visibly, yet he remained still and dignified. He looked towards his son, seeking a comfort only he and Legolas understood, although his questions were aimed at Haldir. "How serious?"

"She suffered an injury to her chest."

Thranduil's eyes widened for a second, then went immediately blank. Legolas instinctively stepped towards his father.

"She is with Tira now. I do not believe it is fatal, my lord," said Haldir, "but she has lost blood and is in shock."

Thranduil finally looked away from Legolas, and his eyes fell on Haldir. "And who did this?" he asked. His cool tone belying the flash of anguish only his son had seen.

Haldir met the King's gaze squarely. "Her uncle, the dark elf Maeglin."

Thranduil's eyes darkened with fury as he stared at Haldir. The light in the room faded and the air grew heavy.

Haldir stood tall and faced Thranduil directly, a slight challenge in his gaze, ready to meet the expected onslaught of questions and possibly even denunciations.

"And this happened while she was with you?" Thranduil asked, not bothering to hide the accusatory note in his voice.

Haldir looked down but then raised his eyes quickly to again meet the King's, his mouth was set in a determined thin line, yet his eyes held regret. "Yes my lord. She was with me. I should never have let her out of my site." The March Warden bowed low.

Thranduil stared at Haldir for a heartbeat. It took every bit of self-control he possessed to not throttle the elf standing in front of him. His cheek pulsed slightly as his jaw clenched but otherwise he showed no signs of emotion. "Haldir, Legolas, I will hear the rest of your story shortly." Without so much as a nod, the King smartly turned on his heel and left the room.

Haldir walked over to one of the sofas by the fire and sank down. Legolas walked over and put his hand on the march warden's shoulder, then took the sofa opposite.

"Why did he leave so soon, there is still much to tell him," said Haldir.

"To see the dark elf," replied Legolas.

Haldir looked at Legolas, as though preparing to say something, but he stayed silent.

"You think she should go to Lorien," said Legolas. "Why is this?"

Haldir gave a small, rueful smile. "You are astute. I see why the King has made you Captain of the Guard. Mirkwood's guards and army are strong, but I do not think it will take the glint of steel or singing bows to protect Isobel from her uncle. I think it will take a magic that is more powerful than the magic he himself has learnt from the Enemy. That kind of protection cannot be found in Mirkwood, Legolas, it is found in Lorien."

Legolas looked towards the verandah thoughtfully. "He will not consent, Haldir. Of this I am sure. You underestimate the power of Woodland Realm."

Haldir looked hard at the Prince. "Then I will need to convince him. Whatever your power is, it is best for Mirkwood that the danger leave with her. It is best for Isobel that she be where the danger cannot touch her."

"And is it best for you?" asked Legolas, staring hard at the March Warden who was normally so confident and self-possessed, but at this moment was clearly shaken.

Haldir's eyes narrowed and he remained silent.

Legolas closed his eyes for a moment then exhaled. "Forgive me, Haldir, it is not for me to question your motives. That was unjust."

Haldir shook his head and offered Legolas the hint of a smile. "Perhaps unjust, but not wrong. There are many reasons I would see her safe... "

Legolas nodded thoughtfully. "I do not think the danger will go with Isobel. What reason could Maeglin have to harass her like this? I think it must be her knowledge of both Lorien and Mirkwood's defenses."

"That would imply that there is a reason the Enemy would want that information. Do you think they are looking to move against us so soon?"

The younger elf looked grim and said nothing.

"Still," continued Haldir. "The Lady could protect her and thus protect Mirkwood."

"My father will never believe the Lords of Lorien can protect her better than he can. His own hold on the forest goes deeper than you may think. I do not doubt the power of the Lady, Haldir, but I do not see it as greater to the King of The Woodland Realm. So, with all things being equal, the question becomes this: If given the choice, will she want to leave?"

The two elves looked towards the King's empty desk and the implication remained unspoken in the air between them.

*******************************************************************

Thranduil entered the healing room just as Tira covered her patient with a blanket. The King paused, taking in the soft floral scent.

"Atheleas? Has she been touched by darkness?"

"I don't know my lord, but I don't wish to take the chance."

The King nodded curtly and walked towards the bed where Isobel lay still, her eyes closed in a deep healing sleep. He gently peeled back the blanket to look at the wound beneath her collarbone, now bandaged. He exhaled, his face grim, and he lightly re-covered her with the blanket.

Tira watched her King as he surveyed the sleeping elf, her eyes sympathetic. She did not mind his abrupt manner. She was one of the few people who could read him and could see his distress, heavily veiled through it was. "She is stable for now," Tira offered, looking Isobel over with the professional objectivity of all healers – clinical but kind. "Provided she has escaped the black breath, she will make a full recovery. She lost much blood and was in shock. Once she regains consciousness, she will be weak for a few days hence."

Thranduil looked at Tira. "Please leave us," he commanded curtly. Tira offered him a small nod and departed. The King stood still until the door had closed behind him, then he turned back to the sleeping elleth and bent down, his eyes sweeping over her with anguish. "Meleth nin," he whispered, stroking her hair away from her face. "Come back to me, meleth." He leaned forward and kissed her forehead, then sat down on the chair beside the bed with a sigh.

He didn't need Haldir to tell him the details, in retrospect he trusted that Haldir had a good explanation for how Maeglin had managed to injure Isobel (another surge of anger rose at the mere thought of it). He would speak to Haldir later and gather the rest of the information. His heart told him this was related to news he'd received earlier in the year from Celeborn. There was much activity in Dul Gudor, not to mention the increase in orc attacks along his own borders. The Enemy was testing their strength and gathering intelligence.

It bothered him further that this attack had clearly happened while Haldir and Isobel were within his borders. His protection had grown weak and would have to be reinforced.

It had been many years since he had walked the marches and wove his ring of protection. A rare and sacred ceremony that few had witnessed.

He remember walking with his father, Oropher, to secure the greenwood before the War of the Last Alliance, renewing the covenant of defense between himself and the forest.

When he was young, it was such a mystery, watching his father fuse his energy with the forest's in mutual love, respect and protection, a magic so beautiful and terrible it was impermeable by the darkness of the south and the north.

He looked again at Isobel and his stomach churned. He should have renewed the covenant earlier. Looking at her now, he realized it was luck that none else in his realm had fallen victim to darker spells.

His stomach lurched again as he remembered Amdir's parents. He inhaled the atheleas and straightened his back. While the ceremony would not protect the woods from orcs, it would hinder the Enemy's ability to make their attacks easier. He and Legolas would leave tomorrow morning.

Isobel's eyelids fluttered. Thranduil instantly leaned over to her, touching her face. She opened her eyes for a moment, long enough to gaze up at him, and offer a small smile before she plunged back into oblivion.

The King stood up. He knew what he had to do. With a last look at Isobel that briefly softened his face, he stepped outside the room where Tira stood, waiting patiently.

She nodded and walked back inside to check on her charge, as the King headed back up to his study.

****************************************************************

That night, the King met with his council. Haldir explained the appearance of the dark elf to the King, Legolas, Tira, Tauriel and Feren.

"I believe that it would be safest for Mirkwood if Isobel were to depart with me to Lorien. The Lady of the Light and Lord Celeborn would see her safe and the Enemy's eye might be taken away from Mirkwood."

Thranduil steepled his hands under his chin as he listened to Haldir, his expression hard, but attentive.

"Your concern for my realm is commendable, march warden," the King said cooly. "I do not doubt that our enemies, both seen and unseen, vie for Isobel's knowledge, but this is not the only reason for these assaults. It is likely she was forgotten while she remained in Fangorn, but now the Enemy is aware of her. To remove Isobel now would make us all vulnerable. I can't afford the size of host it would take to ensure her safety while you transport her to Lorien and to provide anything less would almost ensure that knowledge of our defenses – and Lorien's – would be land in the Enemy's hands." Now he looked directly at Haldir. "She stays."

Haldir wisely said nothing although his blue eyes darkened. The King looked in the face of each of his council members.

"It is time for the King to walk the marches and renew the covenant for protection of the forest. Legolas, as my heir, you must accompany me as I did my father before me. We take no host. Feren: You are steward in my stead. Tauriel will lead a small host a half-day behind us – far enough away to protect the integrity of the ceremony. We will start in the west, then walk to the north, east and south.

"Tirathuil."

The older elf looked up.

"You must prepare the ceremonial herbs immediately. There is no time to delay." Now his stern look fell on his son. "We will depart tomorrow morning. Nobody outside of this room is to know our mission. While we are away, no one enters this Kingdom, and no one leaves it."

*********************************************************

The next morning, while Isobel slept in the comfort of Tira's infirmary, Thranduil's horsemaster prepared the horses for the King and the Prince to depart.

They dressed in the garb of lower-ranked elves. If they encountered orcs, their disguise could be the only thing to save them.

The thin sun rays threaded through the barren tree boughs as the two elves solemnly rode across the bridge and turned west. The air was cold and thick with the promise of snowfall. They wore heavy brown travel cloaks.

Thranduil looked over at his son as they rode out, and a surge of pride coursed through him. He allowed himself to admit that he was glad to have this time to teach his son about the other, lesser known, side of being the forest king. Few realized his deep, visceral connection to the spirit of every living thing in Mirkwood. His influence once stretched almost as far south as Lorien but now was concentrated to his official territory within the boundaries of the rivers. The ceremony was as old as the forest itself and, should Legolas ever rule in his stead, he would need to understand it. As more darkness encroached upon Thranduil's borders, this ceremony was the only way to keep the creatures of the forest safe and keep those who would use dark magic out.

His mind wandered to Tira's infirmary and the ebony-haired sleeping elf. He would never send her to Lorien. He may not be ready to declare his intentions towards Isobel, but he knew he wanted her near him. His efforts to renew the mutual protection of the forest was as much to protect her as it was his kingdom.


	8. The Covenant

When Legolas first learnt of his adar's intent to renew the forest covenant, and that he was to be included, he felt intrigued. He had heard of the ceremony; he remembered Tira and his father talking about it once when he was an elfling. Of all the ceremonies that went along with governing the Woodland Realm – some of them purely ceremonial and some of them sacredly poignant - this ceremony was the most mysterious and the most important.

He and his adar, heir and ruler, would walk through the four corners of the Kingdom, communing with first the oaks, then the beech, then the bears, elks and smaller creatures. Next came the green life and the water. Each group had its leaders, and they would agree to cooperate with the Forest King only if they felt safe in his protection and secure in his acknowledgement.

Legolas did not fret either of these conditions. Never had there been a stronger, more fearsome warrior in all Middle Earth, and never had a King loved the forest more than Thranduil.

He understood that Thranduil's responsibilities extended far beyond the welfare of the elves and encompassed all life in the forest and his spiritual connection with the plant and animal life in Mirkwood ran as deep as the groundwater that nourished the tallest trees.

He looked at his adar carefully – there was just enough moonlight to reveal his sleeping form. The two elves rested atop a flet on the western border, wrapped in furs and dressed in common clothes as a measure of protection. Legolas smiled; looking at him now, it was hard to believe he was the King. But King he was, and the King's awareness was heightened due to the quiet of the land around him.

Thranduil's eyes focused as he awoke and fell on his son.

"What is it ion nin? I can hear you thinking from here."

Legolas gave his father a lopsided smile. It was amazing how his adar always knew when he was thinking about him, and there was no point in lying, for his father could easily see through him, even when he was supposed to be asleep!

"I was thinking about the ceremonies and…well, I was wondering about my mother," the younger elf replied honestly. "Did she come with you the last time you did this?"

Thranduil sat up on his elbow and looked at Legolas. "That is the tradition. You know that all our ceremonies are stronger when they encompass both female and male power, but no, she did not come."

"I don't understand," said Legolas, looking over at his father, noting how the moonlight turned his ada's eyes to shadow.

Thranduil sighed as he considered how to explain the situation to his son. "Your mother and I were young when we married, and I was not her first choice."

Legolas' eyebrows rose, this was new information. He sat straighter as he realized that, for once, his father spoke to him as an adult, not the elfling he ceased to be a millennium ago.

"But some things can't be helped," Thranduil continued, feeling uncharacteristically open. He gave Legolas a thoughtful look, then he gazed into the black of the tree boughs. Legolas held his breath, hoping he'd continue. After a long silence, the older of the two elves began to tell the story.

"Your naneth was good and, much like us, she believed in duty and responsibility. She agreed to marry me as the union was advantageous for both our families and cemented the relationship between the Silvans and Sindars.

"She tried, we both did, but she was not happy until you were born, Legolas. Your arrival changed everything and, for a time, I thought we might be happy. But after the War of the Last Alliance, it changed. We all lost those we loved. Of course I lost my own adar and Mirkwood lost its king. Your mother lost brothers, uncles and…shall we say 'others' who were dear to her.

Legolas frowned and leaned in, staring up at his father's shadowed face. "The one she loved? Did she still see him?"

"No, Legolas, it was not like that. Your mother was faithful to us, but despite that, I knew she mourned her losses keenly and knew she was unhappy.

"Of course during this time I was busy learning how to govern the Kingdom and rebuild our realm after the war. I was young too, and optimistic. I thought that, with time, she would be happy again, but I underestimated the extent of her melancholy and the impact of her sacrifice.

"I later learnt that during that time she had wanted to sail west, but for you, she stayed. I tried for so many years but, having given her a son, there was nothing more she wanted of me, nothing more I could give her that she would accept.

"When the time came for me to renew the forest covenant, she chose not to be there. I was disappointed, of course, but I did not wish to burden her more and so I accepted her desire to stay back.

"I loved her, Legolas, and I know she loved me in her own way. While the marriage was not a perfect bonding – few royal marriages are - there was still joy…" his voice trailed off as he lost himself in the memories and the emotional struggle of that time.

"And her death?" asked Legolas. Thranduil turned his head to look at his son, whose hair shone silver in the moonlight, so much like his mother's.

"When she was taken, she was travelling to visit outlying elven communities who had lost members of their families in the war. She was near the northern borders and her host was too small to protect her properly. It was the worst day of my life. I had argued with her to bring more elves but she dismissed most of them, she hated to travel with a large number.

"We searched for her around Mount Gundabad but never a trace was found. I knew she had perished because she would never have left you. She loved you too much. But of course you know this, how many times have we talked about it?" the King offered a sad smile.

"But to answer your question, I think that, on some level, she knew that our bond was not enough for her to take over her portion of the covenant. If anything, it could have weakened the connection. She loved this forest as much as I do and she was not afraid to see those things I didn't want to see. She was smart like that. She was like you, Legolas. You take after her in the best of ways.

Legolas laid back and stared up at the stars. "I don't know, Ada, I wish I could have known her longer," he said softly.

Thranduil exhaled. "I know, meleth," he said, using the word he used when his son was only a few years old. "But you must learn to move past it. When we are young, we think our suffering is profound, but it is anything but that. We all suffer loss, and elves more so because we are not released from our sorrow. I am alone in my responsibilities, I know this and I am… I am settled with it. But you, you are much loved. By myself, by your mother in Mandos.

"No ada, you are not alone," Legolas protested. "You have my love, and the love of your elves. I would not leave you."

Thranduil smiled at his son, an elf who rarely showed emotion, but who sat across from him on the flet, clearly distressed at his father's being alone. His heart rose with pride.

"Yes, Legolas, you will, and you should. One day you will want to have your own family and, should I survive," at this the King smirked, "perhaps rule your own kingdom elsewhere. I will not hold you back ion nin. Now, don't be so serious. You really must learn to handle your emotions better."

Legolas raised a single brow. This, he had heard before. He shook his head with a smile. "Yes, ada," he replied as he settled into the furs and prepared to sleep.

On the other side of the wooden platform, the King smiled as he looked up at the stars.

A few hours later, Thranduil sprang awake. He heard a single crack of a branch, and the rustle of leaves.

He silently crept to the side of the flet and peered down into the inky darkness of the forest floor. He could see nothing. He closed his eyes and concentrated on his other senses.

There.

A shudder as many feet pounded the earth from a distance not that far away. How many, he wondered. He sniffed the air and detected the faint scent of feces woven into the wind. They were too close for the elves to escape and there was no point in hiding; without the cover of the leaves, the orcs would smell the elves and easily spot the flet.

He turned back to wake Legolas, only to find his son standing, anxiously waiting for Thranduil to direct him. "Go, Legolas, warn the guard. I will draw them away so you are not found."

"No Ada, I will not leave you to fight them alone."

Thranduil threw his son a steely look "You will."

He stared at his son's ashen face and his own softened a measure. "I do not intend to die tonight, but if I do, Mirkwood needs a ruler."

The younger elf hesitated, unable to argue his father's logic, but not wanting to leave him behind.

"Go, Legolas!"

And go he did, lightly dropping down to the forest floor, swiftly and silently heading east towards Tauriel's guard post and disappearing from view.

Thranduil turned his head in the direction of from where the orcs were coming. Normally he'd take as much cover as he could, but now he had to catch and hold their attention to give Legolas the time he needed to clear the area. With luck they'd take him for a common elf and perhaps try to question him for information.

He took comfort in the two short swords he'd concealed on his person. One down his boot, the other concealed in his shirt. He stood tall in the flet and awaited the orcs' arrival.

*********************************************************

Isobel laughed in spite her herself and swatted the lembas away that Haldir offered her.

"Honestly Haldir, I'm fine and I couldn't possibly eat another bite!"

The march warden shook his head with mock gravitas. "You will never recover your strength if you don't eat, am I not correct Mistress Tira?" Haldir appealed to the silver haired healer who entered the room.

Tira looked at the two elves together, Isobel still in the healing bed and Haldir in a chair pulled up closely to her side, anxiously attending her, despite his laughing face. She smiled. "I'm afraid he is right, but then, Master Haldir, no doubt Mistress Isobel knows her own mind," (at this Isobel smirked at Haldir) "and thus only grows more stubborn with each appeal."

Haldir grinned triumphantly and Isobel scowled. She reached over and grabbed the bread out of Haldir's hand and took a large bite out of the corner. Haldir raised an eyebrow but nodded graciously.

"I feel well enough to walk around today." Isobel said between bites. "Perhaps, Haldir, you can show me the library?"

Tira looked her over carefully, gently checking her pulse and studying her face. It had been over two weeks since the dark elf had landed her healing house and, after an alarmingly deep sleep, and the constant presence of athelas to ward off the darkness, Isobel was physically improved, yet Tira frowned.

"I want you to move gently Isobel. You have been through a tremendous amount and there is no doubt that you mind is stretched thin. Everyone has a breaking point, even you. Still...

Tira flashed a rare smile. "Master Warden is taking good care of you so I think I can entrust you to his care. Haldir, if you'll excuse us, I'll help Isobel dress and perhaps you can escort her to the upper halls?"

The two elves grinned at each other and, ten minutes later, Isobel was beside Haldir, climbing a set of stairs that rose beside a tumbling waterfall.

"We should not go too quickly, you have not yet recovered all your strength. I worry for the Captain of the Fangorn Guard and it would be a great scandal to the King should anything happen to the leader of such a ferocious unit."

Isobel had stopped climbing the stairs and leaned over to touch the water as it tumbled down past her. "It is so beautiful," she said quietly, ignoring Haldir's joke for the moment while she discreetly recovered her breath.

Haldir didn't miss a thing and waited patiently, admiring her while her strength returned.

She finally looked back at him, "Oh I don't know Haldir. The King has not visited me even once in the weeks since I've been injured, only you and Tauriel. I don't believe he is that concerned, and besides, are not kings impervious to scandals? They are certainly impervious to most things around them."

Haldir looked at her thoughtfully as they resumed their upward climb – moving more slowly this time. His eyes fell to the welt on her chest that had healed to a thin red line that showed plainly above the low neck of her green tunic. "Isobel, I think you misunderstand. The King was with you when I first brought you back to Tira's healing room, you were unconscious for days. He left the halls weeks ago and works to secure the forest. I cannot tell you more than that, but I would not doubt his concern. No king is impervious to that which happens in his kingdom."

Isobel had the grace to look repentant. "I'm sorry, I should not have said that. Was he really with me? How long did he stay? Was he worried?"

Haldir stopped at the top of the stairs and faced her, his eyebrow raised. "These are odd questions to ask, why do you wish to know?"

"I don't, I just…well…" she stammered.

Haldir's eyes darkened. "I asked you about your interest in the King the day you were injured and you would not answer. Since then we have spent every day of your recovery together. Surely you understand why I would ask..."

"Since when is the King's private life of importance to you?"

"Since he began coveting you. Do you think I don't see it?"

"Please Haldir, he does not covet me – of this I am sure – I mean I thought he did but now…well…I don't think so, and why should it be of your concern even if he did?" she asked, suddenly defensive.

He shook his head incredulously and turned to face her. "Now there is a thing to ask…Have you not noticed my regard for you? My interest and my effort? For if not, you are the only elf in Arda to have missed it. There has not been a day since you found me in Thranduil's courtyard that we have not spent together. Why do you think I do not return to Lorien?"

Isobel blinked at the directness of Haldir's words, her mouth open in surprise.

"It's not your friendship that I desire from you," he continued. "Or at least not only your friendship. But I have seen the King's interest in you – and yours in him, and I ask you: What would he offer you? Would you be his mistress? His secret? Nay, that is not enough for you. Forget Thranduil. Let him be nothing to you for you could be nothing to him."

She flinched and looked away, her cheeks blazing. "Haldir, I had no idea you felt this way. You are the only friend I have."

"A friend..." His voice softened as he looked down at her. "We are not elflings at training, Isobel. Nor are we newly acquainted." He looked away and gathered his thoughts before turning back to her. "Do you know that we march wardens of Lorien have often spoke of you? Of how we would win your heart should you enter our realm? I was always the one to argue most vehemently that, with one so fair, none of us would stand a chance."

Isobel was now completely out of her comfort zone and cast her eyes down, shying away from Haldir's steady gaze. When had their conversation taken this turn and what could she do to return to the easy banter they shared? She was hurting Haldir yet she had no idea how to right it.

Haldir saw the confusion and dismay in her face but his jealousy of Thranduil lingered and fueled his desire to continue even though he knew he should have backed off minutes ago. Yet with graciousness borne of the beauty of Lothlorien, he relented.

"Forgive me, I am your friend although I am not doing a very good job of it. You are barely recovered and here I am pushing you for something you are clearly not ready for. I will content myself with your friendship, my lady captain, but not forever. Soon I must return to my home and I have no intention of returning alone."

She looked up at him sharply. "What do you mean? Do you want me to come with you?"

He saw the alarm in her face and laughed softly. He reached out and tenderly cupped her jaw, softly running his thumb down her cheek.

"You are like a skittish rabbit Isobel, always ready to flee, yet you have no idea of the effect you have on others... Of course I want you to return to Lorien with me, and to ride by my side every day after that. What is the meaning of our finally meeting here - in the most unlikely of places - if not that we are meant to be together?"

The confusion and shock must have registered on Isobel's face for Haldir stepped back and his brow furrowed. "Do you not feel the same way Isobel? Search your emotions and I think you will find your answer. I am not a king but I believe I am enough to make you happy..."

Isobel stared at him for a heartbeat. "Of course you are enough, of course I care for you…" she raised her hand to her forehead. "But I need to speak to Thranduil...I can't just...it wouldn't be..." the ends of her sentences hung awkwardly between them.

He straightened his shoulders and lifted his chin, and a hardness crept into his mouth. "Thranduil? You would speak to him about us? He is not lord of either us and I see no reason to seek his input...unless..." His face shuttered and his countenance was suddenly formal. "I see I have spoken too soon," he said coolly. He stepped back, creating distance between them. "I did not mean to discomfort you Isobel. I will see you to the library and leave you in peace." He nodded curtly, his usually sparkling blue eyes now flat.

"No Haldir, I did not mean--"

"You do not need to say it," he cut her off, his angry tone echoed in the corridor. "Your face is like glass. It reveals everything you think and feel. I believe I understand you quite well and you have acted very ill in allowing me to go on. It pains me to say this to you, but it was badly done Isobel!" His voice was brusque, arrogant in its defensiveness, and it cut her deeply. He turned away from her and started down the long corridor at the top of the stairs.

Isobel blinked, her mouth open in shock. She had not seen this side of him before. She was aware of his reputation for unyielding ferocity in battle but he had only ever shown her kindness and humour, never this level of passion. But that did not mean it wasn't there, she realized with a start. Clearly she had underestimated both his strength and his feelings for her.

She saw him in a different light as he walked away from her, his head held high in masculine pride and his eyes staring straight ahead. He was not just a friend, and his feelings were not to be taken for granted. She thought of how he made her feel all those times she glimpsed him at the borders of Lorien. Here was an ellon who could make her laugh, provide a home for her, and give her the family she'd always dreamt of. In that moment, she realized, without a shadow of doubt, that she did not want to lose him.

Isobel didn't think, she acted. She rushed behind him and grabbed his arm.

He swung around to face her. "What are you doing?" His eyes blazed as he harshly shook his arm from her grip. He stared angrily down at her, wanting simultaneously to kiss her and throttle her.

Undaunted by his intensity, she reached up and touched his face, pressing herself to him, soothing the violence inside of him.

"Since I arrived in this forest, my whole life has been thrown upside down. I have been attacked, accused, ignored.. and yet you, Haldir, have been like a bright light. You have always been that for me - even before I knew you by name - and I don't want to hurt you. I understand what you are saying and you are right. It is meant to be." She pulled his face down to hers and kissed him deeply. She pulled back for a moment, to stare into his eyes. "When you leave here, I will go with you."

Haldir stared down at her in disbelief and a slow smile spread across his face, at first tentative then growing in confidence. He shook his head as he looked at her. "By the Valar, Isobel, you are a happy dream," he whispered into her yielding lips and, and without another word, he swept her up and carried her to his room.


	9. Dol Guldor

Thranduil leapt to the ground in front of the orcs. He stood facing them, his stance wide and his hands on his hips. His only thought was to buy time for Legolas.

The orcs immediately surrounded him, their swords raised. The silver elf dared not raise a weapon, less they strike and end the seconds he was buying for his son. Instead he raised his chin and met the snarling gaze of the orc captain, who now approached him, with black teeth bared.

"What's here, then?" the orc growled in a fell voice. "A lone elf of Mirkwood standing against a battalion of orcs? Not known for their smarts, the Mirkwood elves." The captain's small dark eyes glinted in the moonlight as studied the elf's garments. "Where are your friends, I wonder? Abandoned you in fear as they ran off?" At this the other orcs laughed, although one or two look around nervously.

"Elves do not fear the likes of you," Thranduil said evenly, relieved that, so far, he had not been recognized.

The captain ignored the comment. "You do best not to fight, elf, for you could not win against the orcs of Dol Guldur!"

Thranduil said nothing and stood still.

"Tie 'im up boys. We'll take this one back to the Master. He may only be a common elf – perhaps a thief creeping at the edge of the border, eh? But he'll know about the wretched King's defenses and you," he turned back to look at Thranduil, "can tell the Master all about them."

"Who IS your master?" Thranduil asked as the orcs approached him, roughly tying his hands behind his back and a rope around his throat. Thranduil pulled his head back from them in disgust. They stank.

The captain laughed and his black eyes rested on Thranduil. "You should know, he's an elf like you." The captain unexpectedly pulled the rope attached to Thranduil's neck and the elf stumbled forward, almost losing his balance. The captain snarled. "Clumsy elf!"

Thranduil cut his eye at him but said not a word.

"No, no – it will be eaiser to carry him. Orum!" the captain yelled at the orc standing directly behind Thranduil. "Knock him out!"

Thranduil felt a mighty blow to the back of his head and saw an explosion of light that was devoured by a creeping darkness until all went black.

* * *

Haldir kicked the door closed with the back of his boot. He lowered Isobel to her feet, kissing her ceaselessly, and they gracelessly stumbled backwards towards the sofa in Haldir's quarters.

Isobel willingly lost herself in Haldir's strong arms and hungry mouth. She wanted this, she wanted him, and what she knew he could give her – a home, a community, and a family. "Tell me you will never leave me," she whispered to him as he ran his hands down her waist and hips.

He stilled for a heartbeat and pulled back to tenderly gaze down at her. His irises were reduced to thin circles of stormy blue that did not waiver as he looked at her.

"I will never leave you, I will take you to Lorien and we shall marry. You will never be alone again Isobel, I promise you."

A surge of happiness filled her chest and tears sprang in her eyes. Haldir answered her with a smile and yet another joyful kiss.

Suddenly a wave of blackness overtook her and she froze. She felt the blood leave her mind and in its stead she had a vision of Thranduil surrounded by orcs, captured. Nausea rose in her gorge and she fell to her knees on the floor, heaving. Haldir jumped down beside her and grabbed her shoulders. "Isobel! What is it?"

She looked up at him, waiting to catch her breath, focusing on his face. "It's the King," she whispered. "Orcs have taken him."

Haldir froze for a moment, then his eyes searched hers and he gently helped her rise to her feet. "You're trembling, Isobel." He folded her in his arms and she pulled back almost immediately.

"Haldir, we must do something."

"How do you know this?"

"I felt it. The King and I have a connection." She saw him flinch slightly. "He says it's because I am part of the forest, more so than other elves and so--"

Haldir cut her off. "Yes, I do understand."

Isobel watched the clouds gather in his eyes and reached out, placing her hand on his cheek to reassure him. "Haldir, you are my choice."

Haldir closed his eyes and his lips curved slightly under Isobel's touch. "And I will forever wonder at it," he replied, then his face grew grim. "The King is disguised as a common elf and he travels without a host to protect him. If what you saw is real, he is in grave danger."

Isobel stilled, her body filled with fear. "But how can that be? You said he was off to protect the forest! Yet he travels alone?"

"It is a ceremony," he replied grimly "He entreats the forest to use its own powers to protect the elves as the elves use their power to protect the forest. It is sacred and he travels only with Prince Legolas. It is a great risk, but one that he takes just as his own father did. Isobel," Haldir led her back to the couch and sat her down. "Can you tell in which direction they're taking him?"

She closed her eyes and concentrated, sorting through her thoughts to find that one golden-green thread that linked her to the King. Suddenly a voice entered her head, a hazy thought from far away. 'My father's fortress' he said faintly. Isobel frowned and said to Haldir: "To his father's fortress… Does that make any sense?"

Haldir exhaled and leaned back for a moment as though considering. "It is as I feared. They take him to Dol Guldur."

"Dol Guldur? Are you sure?"

He glanced at Isobel. "It was the ancient seat of Oropher's kingdom before he moved north. I will go."

"And I will go too," said the dark elf.

"You will not," Haldir replied. "You have barely the strength to climb a flight of stairs! How do you think you will help me rescue the King –and possibly the Prince – from the evil fortress of Dol Guldur? If anything, dearest Isobel, you will slow me."

Isobel blinked and her mouth opened to protest, but she quickly closed it and considered Haldir's words. She looked at him thoughtfully. "Who commands the fortress, Haldir?"

Haldir cocked his head and returned her gaze. "Some of the wardens have spotted a great winged nazgul, but others say they have seen a tall dark elf in its midst…"

They stared at each other, each coming to the same conclusion.

"I must go alone, Haldir. My uncle will receive me. I know it."

Haldir took Isobel by the shoulders. "You will not, I will not allow it!"

Isobel pushed him back, her eyes flashed. "Not allow it? And who are you to command me? I will do as I please!"

Haldir shook his head, his brow knitted in concern. "Indeed I cannot command the 'Dark Elf of Fangorn' for her beauty alone would best my sharpest sword," his mouth twitched with the flicker of a smile as Isobel rolled her eyes, and his voice softened. "But surely, as one who loves you, I can plead with you not to do it?"

Isobel turned away from him for his bright fair face had the power to convince her to do – or not do – just about anything. "I can get us into Dol Guldur without a fight, Haldir. With your Lorien cloak, you can follow me unseen and free the King and Legolas if they are together, while I talk with my uncle." She turned back to him. "I can do this," she said stubbornly, her chin raised.

She suddenly felt very much the dark elf she had been when she left Fangorn. Strong, independent, feral and fierce. She felt a thrill of excitement course through her at the thought of killing orcs again – of fighting. She clenched and unclenched her hand.

Haldir's eyes settled on her hand and then on his own sword over in the corner of his room. "And how will you leave? What happens when I have found and rescued the King?"

Isobel looked at him and said nothing.

"Do not suggest I leave you for I will not."

"So….we go?" One side of her mouth lifted in a discreet but victorious smile that Haldir immediately caught. He eyed her carefully and shook his head.

"There are few forces here at the palace, most are out on patrol. Feren acts as steward and has been advised not allow anyone to leave. There is a garrison following the King and Legolas but always keeping back a distance of about a half day. I'd wager that, if he has not fallen, the Prince sets off to warn them so we may have help on that front."  
"Do you think Feren will believe me and let us leave?"

Haldir's mouth formed a thin line. "I don't know, but I believe you, so we'll try."

* * *

"I have my orders, Haldir. No one comes, no one leaves."

The two elves stood in the King's study, facing each other. One silver, the other the colour of burnished sun, but of equal height. Haldir's shoulders were broader but what Feren lacked in Haldir's warrior strength, he made up for with a quick mind.

"I can ill afford to send what little garrison we have in the palace off to the outer marches on a whim."

Haldir's eyes narrowed. "It is hardly a whim Feren."

Feren stared hard at him. "You have allowed your feelings to cloud your mind. It IS only a feeling and even if there is merit, it is not enough to send out the guard. Not until I have received some sort of confirmation that something is amiss with the King."

Haldir exhaled impatiently and turned away from Feren in an effort to master his growing frustration. He turned back around to face him, noting Feren's own impatient face.

"Feren, we have known each other since our training days. You know I would not bring this to you without certainty. Surely you feel it too, that something is wrong," he said earnestly.

Feren's shoulders relaxed although his face remained hard, his eyes concerned. "I do feel it Haldir, but you must understand my position. I am between a rock and a hard place." He turned away from Haldir and walked towards the unlit fireplace. He rubbed his forehead and lowered his head, as though deep in thought.

Haldir knew his friend well enough to recognize the signs of a heavy internal debate. He wisely said nothing, giving Feren the time and space to come to his own conclusion.

Finally Feren turned back around and peered at Haldir. "I will not allow the garrison to leave here, but I do not believe that you will stay regardless of what I say. Thus I will grant you and Isobel my permission to leave these halls to seek more information. If you can confirm that the King is in danger, you will send Isobel back as a messenger. I will prepare a host to depart, just in case. That is the best I can do."

Haldir quickly walked towards Feren, his arm outstretched. The two warriors gripped each other's forearm and looked one another in the eye, as they ever had on meeting and departing. "Thank you my friend," said Haldir. Feren nodded and released him.

* * *

Isobel firmly grasped the hilt of Anglachel and swung it in the air, testing the trueness of the glittering black blade before sheathing it against her side. She checked her mind for the thread of connection between her and Thranduil – as long as it was there, she reasoned that it meant he was alive.

Her gaze fell on her sofa and she remembered the passion that she had shared with the King and for the first time since her declaration to Haldir, she felt a measure of hesitation. Had she been too hasty? No. Her reaction to Thranduil had been in response to so many things happening, her capture by the orcs and then Feren; her imprisonment and escape; her shock at Thranduil's coming to fetch her.

Even her sense of overwhelm at going from the solitude of Fangorn to the busy energy of Thranduil's halls had affected her and she had clung to the comfort he offered, and felt hurt when he promised her nothing.

But perhaps he recognized that her emotions were unstable and that she lacked both experience and perspective whilst he, on the other hand, had ample amounts of both.

And even if he had made an offer – what would that mean to Isobel? Thranduil was hot then cold. He wanted her then he ignored her. He was open and friendly then domineering and ferocious. There was no laughter, no easy conversation, only intensity and an untouchable sadness. She had, at times, glimpsed more behind his façade – or at least she had thought so – but it was wishful thinking.

Haldir on the other hand, he was like the bedrock beneath the trees. He was stable and offered more than an occasional refuge. Haldir felt like home. But still, she could not forget the chance that Thranduil had given her or that he was the catalyst for her reentry into elven society. Whatever happened, he was a friend.

Dressed in her dark travelling cloak and hunters leathers, she paced her room impatiently, waiting for Haldir to fetch her. Now was not the time to second guess any of her decisions. 'I would have you safe', Thranduil had said to her. And now, regardless of what had happened between them, she would have HIM safe, even if she fell in the process.

With a determined air she strode to the door and opened it only to find Haldir in front of her, one slim hand raised, about to knock. He was dressed in his grey Lorien cloak and, like Isobel, his hair was braided back to keep it out of his face. She was again reminded of when Thranduil stood at her door, his hand raised to knock just as Haldir stood now and felt a stab of guilt. She quickly shook it off.

Haldir touched her cheek. "Do not worry," he said, misinterpreting her look. "We will succeed in this. We will take the elven path northwest to the Anduin. The river is the fastest way south."

Isobel felt alarmed at the thought of river travel for never had she been on a boat. "But won't the river be watched?" she asked anxiously.

"No more than anywhere else," he replied. "We can't hold off the arachnids outside the King's borders on our own. The river is our fastest and safest bet."

Isobel nodded. She took a last look around her room then stepped out into the hallway, closing the door behind her. "How long?" she said as she took Haldir's arm and walked closely beside him. He smiled down at her.

"A week by river, double that on foot."

"Where is an eagle when you need it?" she asked wryly. Haldir smirked.

An hour later they set out, each riding an eleven horse from Thranduils' stable that would carry them as far as the river. The elves carried small packs of lembas bread that Feren had instructed the kitchen prepare for them and their weapons. They would sleep in their travel cloaks which were both warm and concealing. There were boats already hidden along the banks of the river and Feren had briefed Haldir on their locations. All was in motion and Isobel only prayed they would reach Dol Guldur on time to save the King.

* * *

It was nearing late afternoon when they set out. Isobel and Haldir moved as quickly as their horses would carry them, stopping only to allow the horses to refresh, but they themselves rested little such was the pace they set. They stuck to the narrow cobblestones of the elven path, often having to sweep aside drifts of snow to find them, and thankfully they did not encounter any arachnids. Haldir carried a scroll of permission with him to present to elven guards they encountered although most of the guards opted to remain hidden and likely tracked their progress to the river from afar.

For two days they travelled. They spoke little as the tension mounted and they neared the river. Occasionally they would wander off the path to fetch water and wash, but otherwise they traveled in a steady North West direction all the way to the Anduin.

"We travel too slowly," complained Isobel to Haldir's back as they neared the edge of the Mirkwood. The mountains were now visible above the tree line and the terrain was less dense. "We should have taken the southern road."

Haldir looked back at her and said nothing. The southern road was too dangerous. Isobel knew this but needed to vent her growing frustration. He reigned in his horse and waited for Isobel to approach until both horses walked abreast. As she neared him he leaned over and silently took her hand and raised it to his lips. A gesture of support that broke Isobel's heart for little was she used to these small displays of affection. Isobel looked at him closely and noted the stress lines around his eyes and mouth. He was as tense as she was only choosing not to show it the same.

"I'm sorry Haldir. The idea of the boat has me a bit nervous."

Haldir gave her a small smile. "But not Dol Guldur? Only the boat…" He chucked quietly.

She smiled back at him, "Well, perhaps Dol Guldur too."

"We should take some proper rest, little one."

Isobel raised an eyebrow at the endearment but, on deciding she liked it, said nothing.

"Once we arrive in the south," he continued, "I will have to remain hidden as orcs will track you on your approach to the fortress. Now may be our only time to talk and make plans."

He swung his leg over his horse and dismounted, leading the horse into a clearing just outside the edge of the forest. Isobel followed suit. In the distance they could hear the faint rumble of the great river although they could not yet see it.

Haldir spread his saddle blanket on the ground to insulate them against the cold and invited her to sit down beside him. "Have you ever rode to battle Isobel?" he asked thoughtfully.

She cozied up beside him and let him drape his arm around her protectively. "No, never knowingly. I've tracked orcs – but obviously you know how that ended." She gave him a wry smile that Haldir returned as he pulled her close.

"Indeed I do, but I can't regret it for it brought you to me. But if I understand you, you've never fought alongside allies before. This will be new to you, yes?"

"You're assuming we'll fight?"

"I am. At some point we'll likely be met with whatever orcs your uncle has garrisoned at Dol Guldur. Not to mention Thranduil's host that was garrisoned close to where he and Legolas had camped. They must already be on the move. I think it is more likely we will fight than not. But even if it's only we three elves who must fight, the lesson is still relevant."

Isobel turned her body so she sat facing him. "And what lesson is that?" she asked.

"That if I fall, or Thranduil falls, you must leave us and fight to save yourself."

She shook her head. "No, I would never. You cannot ask that, for you yourself would never do it."

Haldir looked at her. "Isobel, I am a trained soldier. I have been to war many times and felled many enemies. You fight the odd orc here and there, and while you have some skill with a blade, you lack the training and the stamina – you are not a soldier. Should Thranduil or I fall…"

Isobel pulled back but Haldir grabbed her arms and forcibly kept her in her spot.

"Should we fall, survival must be your priority. Hear me now, Isobel: You WILL leave Dol Guldur alive and they will hunt you. I want you to run to Fangorn – it is the one place they will not dare follow. Then, after a time, make your way to Lorien. You will be welcome there with my kin. With your kin. Promise me this Isobel."

She stared at his clear blue eyes, taking in his straight nose and full lips. She reached up and ran her hand down his silken braids. "You will not fall, Haldir."

"Isobel..." He ran his hands down her arms and held her gaze with an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine.

"I promise," she relented. "But you won't fall. I may not be a soldier like you but I CAN fight orcs and I won't let anything happen to you."

Haldir's mouth twitched. "So I have my very own bodyguard?"

"Yes," Isobel answered. "And she's particularly fierce so woe those who attack those she loves."

Haldir smiled and pulled her down beside him, placing his cloak and arm around her and pulling her against him. "Indeed, Captain of the Fangorn Guard," he murmured into her hair. "It is a wonder you have left me alive this long."

Isobel drew as close to Haldir as she could, laying her head on his chest and inhaling his elven scent of pine trees. Even sleeping out in the open with Haldir she felt warm and protected. She savoured the feel of him for only the Valar knew what would happen once they reached the fortress. She checked for the shining emerald thread of consciousness that linked her to the King. Still there. Still strong. She exhaled in relief and felt Haldir's arms tighten around her. We are coming, she repeated mentally. We are coming. She heard nothing in response. Her attention shifted to Haldir's steady breathing and she quickly fell asleep.

Four hours later, Isobel awoke to find Haldir standing a few metres away, watching the sun disappear behind the mountains in the west. She quietly got up and walked behind him, placing her hand gently on his back. "Are you alright?" she asked.

"I was praying," he responded, his eyes still on the dying sun. Isobel noticed a hardness to his features and a look of steely intent she'd seen only once before: When he fought Maeglin to save her. She recognized Haldir the warrior, and admired his strength.

"We must leave. It is safer to be on the river at night rather than camped here," he said.

"But to be on the water at night, what if there are rocks or rapids? We will not see them."

Haldir turned and put his arm around her, his face softening a measure. "Do not worry, I know this river well. There are neither rocks nor rapids until long past where we will sail. You will have to pull up the boat yourself once we arrive near the fortress. I will help you as best I can but I must stay concealed for orcs roam the east side of the river and will probably follow you in, if you are not immediately seized."

A tremor of fear ran through Isobel and Haldir tightened his arms around her. "You can use this to our advantage Isobel. Remember who you are for nobody else could gain access to the fortress merely by asking, but your uncle will wish to see you and the orcs will not dare to injure you."

Isobel nodded, then closed her eyes and laid her head against the warrior's chest. He smelt like the forest and his clothes held the scent of the damp earth on which they'd rested. When Isobel leaned up to kiss his neck, he nuzzled her face in return. Then he kissed the top of her head and they stood, quietly embracing, savoring those last few moments before they departed to find the boat and head out onto the river.

* * *

Thranduil awoke to the sound of a door clanging closed. He laid his face down on a cold stone floor and could hear dripping water in the corner. The air was thick, damp and foul. He opened his eyes only to find himself still in darkness. His hands were restrained in shackles behind his back and he wiggled his fingers then made a fist to make sure he could. He turned painfully onto his side and eased himself up. A beam of light filtered through the slats of the wooden door and he could make out chains attached to the opposite wall. He was in a dungeon, but where had they taken him? He closed his eyes again and focused his mind. There was a wall behind him and he eased himself over so that his back was against it. His lip felt swollen and his head ached, but no limbs were broken. He gingerly laid his head back against the wall and waited.

Suddenly the door opened and the room flooded with harsh light. Thranduil winced at the sudden brightness and looked up through squinted eyes. Two orcs came forth and, each taking an arm, roughly lifted him to his feet. Thranduil staggered as dizziness overtook him and one of the orcs laughed.

"Not too steady, these Mirkwood elves."

The dizziness subsided and Thranduil stood tall. At close to seven feet, he towered over even the tallest orc. "Careful with him," one of the orcs said to the other.

Thranduil closed his eyes as his captors' putrid breath wafted over him. "Where are you taking me?" he asked calmly.

"You're to see the Master," said one of the orcs as they roughly led the elf into the corridor. Thranduil still wore his boots although he could tell that his knives had been taken. Dammit. His eyes scanned the walls as they passed, looking for windows or doors but there was nothing but rough stone alcoves and a wooden door at the end of the hallway. Not even other orcs….Thranduil recognized the opportunity. He pretended to stumble. As one of the orcs reached down to steady him, Thranduil leapt up, wrapping his chained hands around his throat and pressing him against the wall. The second orc bellowed in surprise. Using the strangling orc as a leverage, Thranduil kicked the second one in the head, cleanly knocking him unconscious. The orc between his manacles stopped struggling. Thranduil lowered the chain connecting his hands and the orc slid to the floor with a soft thud.

With a silent smirk at the two felled orcs, Thranduil took stock of his surroundings. There were two doors on either end of the hall. The dungeon door behind him, and the one ahead, presumably leading to the Master. The alcoves didn't appear to go anywhere. There was nowhere else he could go. Taking the unconscious orc's sword, he slit both their throats then approached the door at the end of the hall in front of him and laid his head against it, straining to hear a clue of what lay behind.

* * *

Almost 20 hours in a boat and still Isobel's queasiness did not subside. Lembas bread did not help despite Haldir's trying to coax Isobel into eating it.

"Paddle to the right," directed Haldir, now hidden in his Lorien cloak. Isobel had never sailed let alone steered a boat, and safely reaching the shore was no mean feat, particularly as the current grew faster as they headed south.

Isobel managed to steer the small white boat towards the pine trees that grew on the eastern shore near Dol Guldur.

"Paddle hard to bring the boat up on the rocks and onto the sand," Haldir said. Isobel did as she was told and when the boat made contact with the sand, she jumped into the shallows and pulled it up to the shore. "It would be easier," she said, trying hard not to move her lips, "were you not in the boat while I try to haul it…"

She was met with a chuckle as Haldir jumped out and, unseen to any eyes around them including Isobel's, put his hand on her shoulder. "I am with you, but I will speak no more but in whispers. Do not doubt that I am right behind you, my love. You've got this, and I've got you."

Isobel inhaled bravely and looked around her. It was high noon and the forest was silent and still. She left the boat where it was – there was no point in hiding it. She wanted both orc and elven guard to know she was there.

"Courage Isobel."

She raised her chin and walked forward, into the forest and towards Dol Guldor. They had only walked a few hours east when she felt eyes upon her. Her heart beat and her breath quickened. "May the Valar be with us," she whispered behind her, and felt a supportive hand on her back. Then into the watchful stillness of the trees she shouted: "I am Isobel! Daughter of Halir! I seek my father's brother Maeglin, Master of Dol Guldur! Take me to him!"

At first nothing happened, she turned in a circle of silence, then suddenly the wind changed and the trees shook and out from the cover of brush stepped six orcs with gleaming back eyes and swords drawn. Despite her expectation, she shrank back, startled. Then remembering her course, she stepped forward, addressing the largest of the six. "I am Isobel, daughter of Halir. Take me to my uncle!" she demanded.

The orc stared at her with obvious hatred and circled around her. She saw the air shimmer where Haldir jumped back to avoid a collision. She quickly focused her eyes on the orc and summoned every bit of courage and ferocity she had. "Are you deaf, orc? Take me to my kin!" she hissed.

The other orcs stood still while their leader reached out and touched her black braid.

"How do we know who you are?"

"Fool," she said, and pulled her braid out of his blackened hands. "My uncle already feels my presence. Which one of you would have the courage to tell him how you killed me?"

The orcs stared at one another. The leader hissed in frustration but stood still.

"I said, TAKE ME TO HIM."

The leader growled but she stood her ground, glaring at him, daring him to hurt her. He backed down. "Follow me," he said with disdain.

She exhaled, and followed him as directed. Around her walked the five other orcs. They turned towards Dol Guldur. If truth be told, Isobel enjoyed feeling their fear and the sense of power that flooded through her. If six orcs were this easy, what would it be to direct an army of them?

What? She shook her head. NO. She stopped herself as she felt the darkness in her blood pleasantly rise. She could easily kill these orcs, feel their blood spill over her black sword. She flexed her hand in anticipation.

WAIT. She frantically thought of Mirkwood – of the kindness of Feren and Tauriel. Yet she felt a shadow in her mind grow stronger as though it were feeding off her. Something dark and unnatural yet seductively tempting. She looked sidelong at the orcs and was surprised to find they looked…cleaner…than they had before, yet she was still overcome with a desire to slaughter them.

She stopped walking mid-stride. This was not natural. The orcs stopped with her. Looking at her closely, the leader slowly drew his sword.

"Is there a problem?" he drawled.

Isobel shook her head in momentary confusion, then she felt a soft hand on the back of her neck. Haldir! Was he so close? An elven light flood her veins, and her heart suddenly felt lighter. Then a soft breath whispered in her ear: "Do not let the darkness affect you…" Tears sprang to her eyes at the sweetness of the voice and, ignoring the orcs for a moment, she looked up at the trees, still clean and fresh, oblivious to the darkness below them.

The orc looked at her carefully, and sniffed around her. "Are you alone?" he asked. The other orcs suddenly stood straighter.

Isobel looked at him with renewed disdain. "As you see," she replied with feigned confidence.

The orc huffed and narrowed his eyes, but he said nothing. They walked on until Isobel saw the top of the dark fortress looming ahead of her. Inwardly she cringed, although the light was still strong within, and she did not feel the temptation of the darkness around her as she had. She silently thanked Haldir who she knew walked noiselessly behind her.

The two orcs guarding the bridge drew aside as the host walked past them with Isobel in their midst. At the main gate, she stopped for a moment and her eyes met the orc captain's. She arranged her features to appear blank and stepped inside the fortress.

* * *

Thranduil heard movement on the other side of the heavy wood door. He stepped to the side and pressed himself against the wall. The door opened and the creature stepped into the hallway. Thranduil leapt out and with both hands swung his sword. The other creature pivoted round and ducked the blow, instantly unsheathing his own sword and parrying the next swing. The creature faced him and Thranduil's eyes widened, his mouth fell open in shock.

Rather than the foul orc he'd expected, in front of him stood a beautiful black headed elf with silver moon lit eyes, and wielding a glittering black sword. He looked so much like Isobel that Thranduil hesitated, lowering his sword a fraction. The dark elf swung his weapon and knocked the crude orc sword out of Thranduil's hands. He held the glittering black sword against the Thranduil's unblemished neck and started to laugh.

"The Elvenking?! And here they said they had captured a thief!" He pressed the sword closer against Thranduil's throat. "I will never comprehend the stupidity of orcs…"

The King glared back at the dark elf, not daring to move.

"Guards!" yelled Maeglin and four orcs rushed out of the doorway and surrounded Thranduil. Maeglin withdrew his sword and sheathed it. "Had I known it was you, Thranduil," he said conversationally as though their meeting where a pleasant one. "I'd have offered better hospitality. Bring him to my solar," Maeglin directed the orcs.

Thranduil quickly found himself escorted into gaudy but luxurious room, covered with thick silken tapestries and richly embroidered furniture. "I suppose what it lacks in style it provides in comfort," said Thranduil looking critically at the furnishings. He sat on a dark red armchair, his hands still in shackles, and looked over to Maeglin who was pouring wine into two goblets from a golden carafe. He studied the dark elf. Maeglin was Isobel's mirror. His long ebony hair shone like a river bathed in starlight and his silver eyes were so much like Isobel's that it was unnerving.

"Now let's see, you were born before Doriath fell, I believe, and Gondolin fell six years after. Of course I was raised in Nan Elmoth. I doubt there is more than a 100 years separating us." Maeglin offered Thranduil a goblet but the King waved it away. Maeglin shrugged and took a sip from each goblet, before putting one down.

"I knew your father from his visits to Doriath," said Thranduil, hoping to throw him off by mentioning Eol.

Maeglin walked over to the blazing hearth and, nonplussed, took a sip of the wine. "Did you indeed? Not many did – we lived in isolation. I admit that my heart pines for the twilight of the great forest where I was raised." The dark elf's eyes dipped to the ground for a split second and his eyes softened. The elvenking watched in silence; even monsters can feel loss. As though sensing Thranduil's gaze, Maeglin raised his chin and his eyes hardened. " I have never cared much for Elven society," he said. 

Thranduil smirked. "As though one would think you joined Morgoth because you cared."

Maeglin stared at him. "You are confident for one who is at my mercy, Thranduil. You are here because I am giving you a choice. You can drink some wine and tell me what I want to know and I will offer you a swift death. Or I will question you as my prisoner and you will die slowly and painfully. You will not feel so confident then, I assure you."

Thranduil's eyes darkened and a small smile crept across his face.

"I have been fighting the likes of you since I was an elfling. I have not lost yet. I am not worried about the words of Sauron's servant. For all the promise you showed in your youth, and all your feigned glory today, you are but a lowly slave and that is all you will ever be."

Maeglin's eyes flashed dangerously. He threw his goblet against the wall and unsheathed his sword. Thranduil was again taken aback by how much this adversary moved like Isobel, for indeed he was walking towards him now. Thranduil stood up with a grim smile and spread his shackled hands the short length of the chain between them.

A knock sounded at the door and both elves turned to look as an orc entered. The orc hesitated on seeing the two elves in battle stance. Maeglin stepped back and lowered his sword, raising his eyebrow at the orc in question.

"You've another…visitor…my master, like him" the orc looked at Thranduil then back to Maeglin. "She says she's your niece. I locked her in your study."

Maeglin inhaled sharply and, tilting his head, he stared at Thranduil, considering. "Stay here; guard him," he directed the orc, then, turning to Thranduil he said "looks like you have a slight reprieve. But do not mourn my absence for I will return presently." Maeglin turned and left the room.

The door closed behind him and the Orc and Thranduil stared at each other. The orc lowered his gaze then looked around nervously, clearly uncomfortable with the King. Thranduil rolled his eyes and ignored the orc. He was about to turn around when he noticed a shimmer of displaced air behind the foul creature. As he tilted his head to look at it more carefully, an eleven sword suddenly appeared out of nowhere and the orc's head rolled across the floor.

Thranduil stood stock still, his eyes wide, as Haldir removed his Lorien cloak and immediately approached.

"Your shackles, my lord," he motioned for Thranduil to place them on the table beside the chair. "Did they take your sword?" Thranduil nodded as he placed his hands on the table and gave Haldir a hard look.

"Steady," said the King.

Using the blunted hilt of his sword, Haldir broke the locks. They fell onto soft rug covering the stone floor.

Thranduil rubbed his wrists and looked at Haldir. "I thank you, march warden. You have the gift of good timing." He looked towards the door. "Is Isobel really here? Where is my guard? I sent Legolas to summon them."

"Then they should be here soon. Isobel's coming was the only way to rescue you, and now we must rescue her. I know where she is. Follow me."

Thranduil's face betrayed his concern for an instant, but he quickly hardened his features and followed Haldir out of the room into the corridor. Light-footed they crept down a flight of stairs and ducked into an alcove as a pair of orcs rounded the hallway. As they passed, Haldir swung hard from behind, decapitating them both with nary a sound. Thranduil nodded approvingly and reached down to take one of their swords. Grasping it firmly in his graceful hand, he followed Haldir towards a door near the end of the hall.

"Are you sure she's here?" whispered Thranduil.

The march warden nodded and both elves froze as a shriek filtered into the hallway, followed by a thump from inside the room. Thranduil's breath caught in his throat and Haldir looked grim. Without another word, the two elves threw themselves against the door, crashing it open.


	10. Family Ties

The door frame exploded and Maeglin spun around as the two warriors burst into the room with swords drawn. Isobel sagged against the wall where Maeglin was holding her, one hand at her neck. The other hand drew his black sword.

Taking advantage of Maeglin's surprise, Isobel kicked him as hard as she could and managed to release his grip on her neck. Maeglin's balance wavered momentarily, but before she could escape him, Isobel felt his black blade against her jugular vein.

The evil elf looked back at Thranduil and Haldir with a grin. "I can't say I'm surprised to see you, Thranduil, but you, march warden, don't tell me you've come to rescue your love yet again? Your fiancé, perhaps? You should thank me for bringing you together in death as you were in life."

Haldir's eyes narrowed and Thranduil, for once caught off guard, shot Haldir a questioning look.

Maeglin laughed again, keeping his sword thrust against Isobel's neck. "Is this news to you, dear King? Perhaps the lovers didn't tell you? Ahhh… some things never change, like the deceit of ellith."

Thranduil glared at Maeglin. His face was stony, yet calculating, as he sized up the black haired elf. "Curb your tongue, slave. You know nothing of elves. Your mind has been long polluted by The Enemy," he said, cracking his neck and widening his stance in readiness for the impending fight.

The side of Maeglin's mouth twitched in anticipation as he removed his sword from Isobel's neck and, seizing her by the hair, flung her to the side of the room. Her head hit the stone wall and she fell to the floor. Haldir rushed over to her, and knelt down, keeping his sword raised towards Maeglin, who watched with amused interest. Haldir's eyes quickly darted to Isobel's face and, with his free hand, he touched the small trickle of blood trailing down her temple.

"Do not take your eyes off him," she said thickly. Her lip was split and she tasted blood in her mouth. "He has no honour and will kill us all if we let him."

Haldir's face darkened and he glared at Maeglin with contained fury. "You will pay for that with your life," said the march warden, slowly rising.

Maeglin's face broke out in a grin as he took Haldir's measure.

"Oh I doubt that," he replied archly. "You and your whore will die this day together."

Haldir's control broke. He rushed forward and his sword met Maeglin's with a loud crash.

Thanduil jumped in to protect Haldir's left flank, wielding his orc sword with a fluidity and grace that countered the crudeness of the blade.

Maeglin parried Haldir's sword, pushing him back with force, and whirled around to face Thranduil, who, even with the orc sword, was the greater threat.

Thranduil attacked directly, and Maeglin's block shattered the King's badly made blade. Thranduil retreated a step but not enough to escape Anguirel's ferocious bite in his lower abdomen. The King's eyes widened in both pain and surprise and he staggered backwards, dropping the hilt. His hands instinctively covered the wound. Red blood flowed through his long fingers as he sank to the floor.

Isobel screamed and rushed over to him. Maeglin stepped forward to finish the job, but by then Haldir had recovered and swung his sword at the Lord of Dol Guldur in a new assault.

Maeglin turned to face him. The two elves locked eyes and raised their swords in a deadly showdown.

Maeglin's strength and skill were far greater than Haldir's and he had the power of the Enemy to enrich him, yet Haldir battled tenaciously. His senses quick and his feet light, Haldir didn't give his opponent an inch. As the silver-haired warrior pressed forward, Maeglin retreated until his foot fell on one of the shattered remains of the broken orc sword. His eyes widened in momentary disbelief as he lost balance and, in a blur of glittering black, he fell backwards, dropping his sword with a reverberating clatter as he hit the stone floor. Not missing a beat, Haldir grabbed Anguirel and kicked Maeglin in the chest, knocking the wind from him, to prevent his righting himself. Before the dark elf could blink, Haldir had crossed the two swords above Maeglin's slender neck.

"Stop! Do not kill him!" screamed Isobel, jumping forward. Haldir froze, but did not look away from Maeglin whose silver eyes stared up in weary expectation of release. Haldir loosened the two swords but a fraction when Maeglin closed his eyes and whispered a single word, "coward." Haldir raised his chin and crossed the swords, and Maeglin's head bounced crudely across the floor.

Isobel stepped forward, her eyes blazed. "I asked you to spare him."

Haldir's face was blank. "He was too dangerous to leave alive."

"He was my uncle!"

He spun to look at her and his voice was gruff. "And what? He loved you? He would have spared you? He had you against the wall when we found you!"

"You don't understand!" she countered, and in truth, nor did she. She had shocked herself by asking Haldir to spare him. She stared at the lifeless head with it's dull metallic eyes staring up and instead of her uncle, she saw her father's head laying apart from its body in the forest, and her mother's lifeless eyes, forever stamped with the terror of watching orcs attack her husband. She felt the nausea rise within her, but she pushed it down and turned away from the gory site of her dead uncle and the memories it awakened.

Haldir shook his head and said nothing, his face was hard as he wiped his blade on Maeglin's cloak with a strong and steady hand. He walked over to Thranduil. "Give me your cloak," he said to Isobel, who immediately took it off and handed it over. He rolled it in a ball and pushed it into the King's abdomen. Thranduil groaned. He lips were pale and his face was covered in sweat.

Isobel knelt down beside Haldir and felt Thranduil's forehead. Haldir watched her carefully.

"We must get him out of here. Do you know the way?" he said, picking up the Elvenking with surprising gentleness. She nodded.

"Take the black sword," he commanded.

She hesitated. "I would take my own back," she said, "if I knew where the orcs put it." But she picked up Maeglin's glittering black sword nonetheless, the twin to her own, and led Haldir out into the empty corridor. At first they proceeded cautiously and, as they neared the end of the long hall, the sound of clashing metal and shouting voices drifted upwards from the hold beyond the stone doors. Isobel's heart beat quickly and she looked up at Haldir in renewed fear.

Haldir paused and listened carefully, then adjusted the King to allow for easier movement."The fort is under attack - it must be the Prince's host. Quick, Isobel, we don't want to be caught by retreating orcs. Hurry!" They ran down a great stone staircase and towards the main entrance.

Both Isobel and Haldir rushed the door, heedless of what could be on the other side. The question was answered when they stepped out into the bright sunlight and saw a pile of orc bodies surrounded by a well-equipped army of Mirkwood soldiers led by Prince Legolas.

Isobel's mouth fell open and she looked over to Haldir with astonishment. "Can they be real? It is as you said!"

Haldir surveyed the scene carefully and it wasn't until he saw Legolas approach that he finally exhaled in relief.

"Legolas! We heard nothing inside until the end as we neared the outer rooms of the fortress, clearly your attack was swift, and effective...there is not an orc left inside."

The prince frowned and stepped forward. His armor was covered with black blood and his face was smeared with dirt, yet he stood as strong and elegant as Thranduil. His anxious eyes studied his father's ashen face. "Has he fallen?" he said, reaching out to touch the his ada's forehead.

"He is alive, but we must get him to Lothlorien quickly."

Legolas nodded grimly and stepped back as Haldir gently carried the King across the blood blackened battlefield where elves were busy dragging orc carcasses into a pile.

Isobel watched them leave then returned to the scene in front of her. On every side of the bridge lay dead orcs and inside her uncle lay dead. She watched Haldir carry the King across the open field in front of the bridge and realized that Thranduil, too, may die. She felt the extent of the evil of this place and the weight of all this death around her. Her knees buckled and her head throbbed where she had hit it against the wall. The scent of the orc bodies overwhelmed her and she vomited in the dirt, doubled over and holding her stomach. When she had nothing left to bring up, she slowly turned away and sat facing the other direction. She raised a shaking hand to her temple, feeling the lumped bruise, and slowly exhaled. 

The soldiers were busy all around her and nobody noticed the single elf sitting on the ground at the entrance to the fortress. Haldir was right, she thought. I'm glad Maeglin is dead.

"Mistress, are you well?"

She looked up into the eyes of Tauriel who was staring down at her with a frown. "Come Isobel, let me help you up." Tauriel extended her hand and helped Isobel stand.

"I'll be fine," said Isobel.

Tauriel looked at her and said nothing, but laced her arm around Isobel's ribs, supporting the black haired elf whose legs shook. Together they walked after Haldir who was gently lowering the King onto a travois at the edge of the clearing.

Isobel left Taurel and knelt down beside Thranduil, placing her hands either side of his head, running her thumbs over his cheekbones. She knelt forward and touched her forehead to his. Live. She thought to him. Please live. The King's eyes fluttered. "When were you going to tell me?" he whispered, his breathing shallow and laboured.

"As soon as you returned. I'm sorry," she said, running her hand down his cheek.

He exhaled, wincing in pain. His turned his face to the side. "Go to your fiancé, Isobel." he said quietly before falling back into unconsciousness.

A few feet away, Haldir stood beside Tauriel, watching Isobel with the King. After a minute, he stepped forward. "Isobel," he said gently, and helped her up.

"Will he live?" she asked, overwhelmed with despair at the thought of his dying.

"Not if we don't get him to Lorien." He wrapped his arms around Isobel. "You are shaking."

"Am I? I feel very odd." 

He tightened his arms around her. "You did well today. You were brave."

She hugged him back, wrapping her hands around the back of his head and pulling him down into her. "Haldir, you did the right thing."

Haldir exhaled, his shoulders lowering as the tension left his body, and he kissed the top of her head, softly nodding his acceptance. "Let's go home," he whispered.

* * *

In all, a host of 30 elves had attacked a battalion of 70 orcs. Later that night, the ranks were reinforced with a host of another 30, sent by Feren. Their assistance with the clean up was welcome and the majority of them remained at Dol Guldur to deal with the few orc survivors.

Thranduil, however, did not fare well and a smaller contingent including Haldir, Legolas, Tauriel and Isobel left that night to transport him and the other wounded soldiers to Lothlorien.

Including the King, the wounded were placed in wagons surrounded by the small host. Isobel walked alongside, helping those elves with healing knowledge as best she could. Slowly, over the course of one night and another day, the elven procession travelled a narrow forest path towards the Anduin River and Lothlorien.

"Isobel,"

She looked up to see Haldir walking towards her. She smiled, but his face was troubled and her smile faded.

"Walk with me," he said, holding out his arm.

She wrapped her hand around it and let him lead her aside so they were out of earshot of the other elves. She looked up at him, unsure whether to attribute his ongoing quietness to a reaction to the fight and professional detachment, or if there was a different, more personal reason.

"It has confounded me," he began slowly, his voice low, "when we were back at the fortress, that you asked me to spare that dark elf's life. Why Isobel? What compelled you?"

Isobel's gait slowed and her stomach sank and she considered the weight of Haldir's words. He turned and waited for her to catch up, waited for her to answer. His blue eyes looked into hers.

He thinks there is darkness in me, she speculated, but she shook her head and answered him honestly. "I think he wanted it on some level."

"Wanted what?"

"For us to release him, to die. I think he saw an opportunity to escape the darkness and took it."

Haldir furrowed his brow and shook his head. "So you think that this…wanting to die…perhaps represented some good in him, some hope?" His voice was incredulous and Isobel bristled.

"And why not?" she countered, her voice rising enough to attract a few curious glances from the procession. She exhaled and made a concerted effort to reign herself in. "Was he not an elf once, like us?" she said quietly. "Perhaps he regretted his decisions."

Haldir exhaled in exasperation. "Isobel, you romanticize him because he was your uncle. He did not attack you because he regretted his betrayal of our kind and longed for release. He did not want you to join him because of your blood connection. He wanted you for your knowledge, Isobel. Nothing else. Once he'd have gotten it, he would have corrupted you or killed you."

Isobel stared silently into the trees, processing his words, then her silver eyes returned to him. "You see it only in one of two ways, Haldir," she began. "It's very black or white for you – no in between. But for me, it is not so simple. You call him 'dark elf' and only days ago, that's what you called _me_ , even if only in jest. But you were right, for I too am a 'dark elf' of his blood. I do not 'romanticize' him. I am aware of the destruction he wrought in Gondolin – of the lives he cost, I feel the weight of that knowledge every day of my life. But unlike you, I know where he came from. I was raised in the same isolation and it wasn't terrible like everyone assumes. I heard stories of my grandfather Eol from my own father and those stories are not terrible either. There was great love in my family, and Maeglin, despite what he became, was also raised with love. I believe that he never forgot it, and he targeted me because I was the only one left who understood him enough to give him that credit. I was the only one left who could truly _understand_ him."

Haldir's mouth opened in astonishment. "Understand him? You could not, Isobel, for who could understand such darkness of spirit?" A look of disgust crossed his face. "If I did not know better, I would think you mourn him."

Isobel tried to pull her hands away, but he grabbed them and held them firm. Tears sprang to her silver eyes, and she took a deep breath and steadied herself. She refused to feel shamed by him.

"I do not mourn him," she said calmly. "But I mourn my family. I mourn the weakness and passion that changed our fate – my fate – and I mourn the loss of the kingdoms - my family's homeland - to which we can never return, and I mourn that, despite everything my family has done, I cannot bring myself to loath them with the same black and white certainty that you have. You have such surety of judgement – as do all your people. You are all so wise, so correct. I envy that, for my heart is not so neatly ordered. Tell me, Haldir: Do you think I have the darkness inside of me too?"

She gave a rueful laugh at his horrified face.

"Do not looked so shocked that I can see what you're thinking! Perhaps you're right. Perhaps I do, but if I cannot bring myself to have mercy upon them, who will Haldir? And you will say they don't deserve mercy, but you forget, that is MY blood too! I am all that is left, and it is upon ME that your harsh judgement falls!"

Isobel stared up at Haldir, expecting him to say something, perhaps comfort her or even push her away – some kind of reaction. But he did nothing, said nothing. He simply stared down at her with a look that fell between disbelief and pity. She pulled away and this time he let her.

"Do not look at me like that, I don't need your pity, march warden, nor your disgust, nor judgement." She turned away.

"I wonder if you need me at all, Isobel," he said quietly.

Her stomach dropped and she froze, she turned back and looked up at him. "Why would you say that?"

Haldir's eyes fell on the wagon where the King lay. He exhaled.

"I think we have much to talk about when we get to Caras Galadhon," He turned away but now she grabbed his hands and held them firmly.

"Wait, Haldir. If you do not wish to love me because of my blood, I won't argue that nor will I blame you, but there is no other reason for you to withhold it. Please understand that."

The march warden looked down at her, studying her, his eyes taking in her face, her black braided hair, and even her travel cloak, now soiled with dirt and blood. She blinked self-consciously under his gaze and looked down. When she looked back up, Haldir was looking beyond her and into the forest.

"It is but a quarrel," she said.

"We'll speak later," he answered, then he dropped her hands and walked up to the front of the procession without looking back.

She exhaled and wiped a dirty sleeve across her face. She turned back to walk alongside the horses and almost walked into the Prince. "Oh!" she exclaimed, quickly blinking away her tears. "Forgive me Prince Legolas, I did not sense you were there."

The Prince offered a small smile and studied her face for a heartbeat. Then he looked thoughtfully to the front of the line where Haldir was now mounting his steed and speaking with Tauriel. "I hope I am not interrupting you?"

Isobel forced herself to smile. "Of course not."

The two elves walked for a minute in silence. Isobel cast the occasional sidelong glance at the Prince. He was very much like his father with his shining silver hair and sky blue eyes. But his features were finer and straighter than Thranduil's, and his mouth was softer, his bearing more gentle.

"I wanted to thank you for your help with my adar," he said.

Isobel smiled and nodded her head, accepting his gratitude. "Thank you. Although if I had not been there, I think you would have seen him safe nonetheless."

Legolas looked up sharply. "Who can say what would have happened? If Maeglin had not been preoccupied by you and Haldir, he would have been aware of our coming. Haldir told me it was your intuition about my adar that had you leave Mirkwood so quickly. I am grateful to you."

His gaze now rested steadily on Isobel and she blushed self-consciously. Her heart lifted with the rare praise and she smiled at the Prince. "Thank you," she said, before looking down again. "How is the King?"

Legolas' smile faded. "He sleeps deeply and I am glad, for the ground is uneven and many of the wounded are in great pain for being jostled about."

"The wardens of Lorien must know we are here by now. Perhaps they will send their healers out?"

Legolas nodded. "I only hope it's in time. If you will excuse me, Mistress, I will see to him now."

Isobel watched as the Prince jogged up beside his father's wagon and talked to one of the elves. She felt weary and longed to sleep. It felt as though she had been walking for a week, although, if she did the math, it was an accurate thought.

She ran through her conversation with Haldir and her heart ached at the thought of his doubting her. She missed his easy banter and longed for his support. Why had he changed so quickly? Her heart whispered what her head tried to ignore: Thranduil.

She had not stopped herself when he was injured, she had shown too much emotion. No wonder Haldir was thrown off, but surely he must trust her. She would have reacted the same way to any elf's injury.

And while it was true that she had a mental connection to the King, it was only because she was closer to the forest than to other elves. The connection was no different to the connection the King had with all the forest creatures.

And yes, while she had spent time with the King (and she was relieved that Haldir was not aware of the extent of it), it had been a reaction to her imprisonment, a simple need for comfort that had seen him stay in her room. Truly it was nothing more, as Thranduil himself had made clear the next day.

She glanced up at Haldir again. He was laughing with Tauriel and she felt a stab of jealousy. She would speak to him as soon as they stopped travelling and make him understand that _he_ was her choice. That she would try to be better, and to let go of her past. That she loved him and was determined to make a future with him in Lothlorien.

Yet even with her mind made up, she did not feel peace in her heart. Something had shifted and she could not put her finger on it. Her glance drifted over to Prince Legolas who now rode in the wagon with his father. He was speaking – did that mean Thranduil was awake? She hastened her stride towards the King and his son.

Legolas gracefully jumped off the wagon and walked towards Isobel. "Will you sit with him, Mistress? He is awake, but I need to speak to Haldir."

Isobel smiled, "Of course I will keep him company." She climbed up into the wagon and settled beside the King. His face had taken on a greyish palour, she noted with concern, and his eyes were glassy, but they sharpened on her as she sat down.

"My son treats me like a child not to be left alone," he said, closing his eyes in irritation.

"Only because he worries," she replied, smoothing the blankets around him.

He opened his eyes and lifted an eyebrow. "I see you are not much better."

The wagon hit a divet and the King grimaced in pain. Isobel grabbed his hand and held it tightly. "We will be in Lothlorien soon," she said. Thranduil said nothing but did not withdraw his hand. Before long he was asleep, and she stayed beside him, holding his hand and staring off into the forest, lost in her own thoughts as the procession crept steadily towards the great river.

* * *

Isobel awoke to the sound of approaching horses. She lifted her head from the side of the wagon. The shadows had grown long and the elves around her looked weary. They had stopped in a wide clearing. The air was lighter and she could smell water in the distance. They were near to the river.

One of the elves caught her eye and smiled at her. She felt guilty at having fallen asleep, and self-conscious at having done it while tending to the King, but she smiled back shyly, then she glanced at the King beside her. He slept fitfully.

He moaned as she gently released his hand, placing it over his chest, and he opened his eyes to look up at her. "Do not leave," he said and she had to lean over him to hear it.

"I think riders from Lothlorien are here," she explained.

He grimaced.

"Are you in pain?" she asked anxiously.

"I rue the day that I should be rescued by _Lorien_ elves. One was bad enough."

Isobel's face broke into a relieved smile. "Well, at least we know your pride was not injured, aran nin."

His lips curved slightly in response as she rose to climb down from the wagon.

One of the elves offered her a hand and she landed softly, then jogged to the front of the procession where Haldir, sitting high on his steed, a step behind Prince Legolas, was in deep discussion with the captain of the Lothlorien host. Behind the Lorien soldiers stood a group of common elves bearing wagons of goods. Three elves walked forward and Legolas and Haldir dismounted to greet them, sweeping their hands from their hearts.

Isobel stood respectfully to the side until the introductions were complete, then caught Legolas' eye.

"Isobel!" said the Prince, nodding at her arrival. "I'm glad you're here." Haldir offered her a small glance but said nothing.

"Lorien healers... anxiously have we awaited your arrival," Legolas said, turning back to them. They nodded graciously. "Mistress Isobel will bring you to the King."

Isobel smiled at the three healers. One ellon and two ellith dressed in long flowing robes followed her to the King's wagon while the rest of the soldiers dismounted and began making camp.

Before long, silken tents stood among the trees and amber lanterns created a warm glow of protection and comfort. Soldiers of both Mirkwood and Lothlorien sat together around cheerful fires, comparing stories and quietly toasting the generosity of the Lady of the Light and Lord Celeborn. A wave of relief and joviality swept the Mirkwood warriors, but they kept their voices down out of respect to the injured, including their King who lay in his own tent, continuously tended by healers.

Isobel sat at one of the many fires with Tauriel. She ate little and kept a sharp eye on those entering and leaving Thranduil's tent. Tauriel watched Isobel closely. "Perhaps you should simply go yourself, Isobel."

"I couldn't," she responded. "I know little of healing and would be in the way. Besides, Haldir will not know where to find me."

Tauriel passed her the wineskin and Isobel drank deeply, allowing the wine to numb her nerves and smooth the rough edges of her thoughts. She closed her eyes and smiled. "Tauriel, you offer me ambrosia…"

Tauriel laughed. "Ah, and here's one more to taste the liquid of the valar!"

Isobel opened her eyes with surprise as Haldir sat down beside her and held his hands to warm them against the fire. She passed him the wineskin. He drank deeply then placed the wineskin down beside her and turned back to the fire.

Tauriel eyed the two of them, then suddenly stood up. "I should check on the Prince," she said. "I doubt he has eaten a thing since we left the fortress." With a small smile at the two elves, she left.

Isobel glanced at Haldir but did not move towards him. Given his words earlier, she was not sure what to expect from him. He passed her the skin and she took another long drink. She placed it back on the ground with a small hiccup.

Haldir's mouth twitched and he inched towards her. "I thought about what you said, and I am sorry for my words."

Isobel stared into the fire and remained silent. She reached for the wine skin again and he gently took it out of her hand.

"When did you acquire a taste for wine?" he asked softly, a small smile played on his lips.

She finally looked up at him. The firelight reflected in his face, and off his silver blond hair. The lines of tension she'd noted earlier in the day were gone. Perhaps the wine had affected him too.

He reached out and touched her cheek and, leaning into her, spoke softly.

"Your mercy does you credit. I've been arrogant and insensitive towards you. Sometimes I forget that we were raised differently and I do not mean to make you feel shame. Your family, your blood, your forest, they all make you what you are and I love that. Will you forgive me, meleth?"

He tilted her chin up and softly kissed her cheeks, eyelids and nose. Then he pulled back and looked at her as though to ask permission. She nodded and, in the soft firelight, surrounded by the soldiers' quiet murmurs and occasional gentle laughter, he kissed her warmly and ardently. He tasted like wine and his kiss grounded her and smoothed her unsettled spirit. He put his strong arms around her and together they sat until the last of the soldiers had departed to their tents and only the sentries remained, keeping close vigil on the movement around them, and holding the cold forest at bay.


	11. Lothlorien

Caras Galadhon did not disappoint. As Haldir led the small procession down the narrow path and into the city, Isobel looked around her with wonder. The morning light took on a golden quality and the air warmed as they neared the grove of giant mallorns that housed the sacred city. Above her the massive trees were heavy with golden leaves and, even in the dead of winter, yellow flowers grew along the path. Massive carved staircases curved around the mallorn trunks, leading up to delicate flets high in the air.

She spied Haldir ahead, leading the way. He walked even taller than usual and his natural exuberance seemed to return as the Lorien elves welcomed him home in passing. Even the horses that Isobel led sensed the difference and their nostrils flared as they inhaled the pleasant new scents around them.

Isobel looked ahead to the elegant elven wagon where the King lay. No longer 'her King', she thought, now that she had arrived in her new home. The convoy stopped in a large inner courtyard where elves filed down the massive wooden staircases to assist them and tend to the horses.

She spied who must have been Lord Celeborn entering the courtyard and approaching Legolas. He wore a silver robe that reflected the sheen of the golden leaves above him and his face and hair radiated a luminescent glow. He moved across the path like silver water. She had never seen such beauty and grace in a living creature and she was fascinated.

The two elves greeted one another with grim faces then stood aside as an elf carried Thranduil off the wagon. With a nod, the elf gently placed Thranduil's sleeping form into the arms of Celeborn who carried him up to the healing house, Legolas stoically following behind.

Isobel watched, desperately wishing she could go with them. She searched her mind for the golden green ribbon of their mental connection. It was very thin, no more than a thread that could break at any moment. She followed Celeborn and Legolas with her eyes as they disappeared up a stone staircase and into an elegantly carved building atop a low-lying flet.

"You worry for the King,"

She jumped as the voice interrupted her thoughts and turned to look at Haldir, who watched her with a frown. "We all worry for the King," she replied.

His frown deepened as he glanced towards the healing house. "Some more than others, I think."

Isobel forced herself to swallow the irritation that welled up at his implication. This was a conversation that needed to happen, but now was not the time. She forced herself to smile up at him. "Do you know where I'll sleep?" she asked coyly, trying to lighten the mood and return him to the smiles she had spied earlier.

He raised an eyebrow and his lips tipped up. "Where would you like to stay Mistress Fangorn?"

She relaxed and offered him a genuine grin. "I have my ideas…where will YOU stay, Haldir of Lorien?"

He stepped back as one of the elves took the horse's reins to lead them over to the stables and Isobel moved with him. "It's not traditional for unmarried elves to share a flet but I'm sure something can be arranged," he said, his eyes roaming down her form appreciatively.

She looked away with false modestly. "Far be it for me to ruin your reputation, my lord."

He ran his hand down one of her braids and chuckled. "I knew you'd be my ruin the first time I saw you."

She looked up curiously. "Really? And that was…."

"800 Years ago."

Her jaw dropped. But I…I only saw you…300 years ago? Maybe 400?"

Haldir smirked. "Never underestimate the Lorien guard, there's little that escapes our notice, particularly when it looks like you."

Isobel looked away. "You flirt." She said, her cheeks burning.

"Me?" he asked with feigned innocence.

Isobel rolled her eyes as another elf ran up to them to seek Haldir's advice. With a small nod and regretful smile, Isobel stepped away, leaving Haldir free to see to the other Mirkwood elves, now guests in his Lord and Lady's realm.

Finding herself amidst a flurry of activity, yet having nothing to do, her eyes turned again to the house of healing and, without another thought, she made her way over to see if there was anything she could do for Thranduil.

She stopped at the entrance to the healing house where a large Lorien guard stood, his face impassive. Before he could ask her business, one of the healers from the night before spied her.

"Mistress," the healer greeted her. "You must be here to see to the Mirkwood King. I'll let his son know you're here."

"Thank you," replied Isobel, genuinely relieved. She shot a quick glance at the Lorien guard and decided to create some distance. She wandered past the main entrance and sat on the ledge of an ancient-looking stone fountain. She trailed her fingers in the cool water and closed her eyes, enjoying a long desired moment of peace.

She sensed someone approach and looked up to see Legolas standing in front of her with a curious look on his face. She went to stand but he raised his hand, and sat down beside her. "He's still asleep," he said.

The Prince's face was pale and drawn with dark smudges under his eyes. His shoulders sat high and tense. He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees and his hands crossed, momentarily forgetting himself. The poor elf was exhausted.

Isobel turned slightly so they sat shoulder to shoulder. "How does he fare Prince Legolas?"

The Prince stared straight ahead, then bowed his head, rubbing his forehead with his hands. Finally he looked up. "Better, I think. They have sewn the gash and already it has started to heal. There may be infection, but he is cooler than last night so the worst is over. But still, we have never come so close to…" his voice cracked and he went quiet.

Isobel looked at him not sure what to do or how to comfort him. Finally she placed her hand on his arm. He looked up, surprised, and she was about to pull away when he offered her the faintest flicker of a smile.

"I could sit with him awhile if you'd like some time to be alone," she offered.

Legolas stared straight ahead and nodded his head. "Thank you Mistress, that would be appreciated."

She smiled and stood, and the Prince rose with her. She took her leave and headed inside to sit with the wounded King. She passed through a few sets of curtains to an inner room where he lay in a bed draped with silk coverings.

The room was warm but the air was light and fragrant. A healer welcomed her with a quiet smile and promptly left the room. Isobel removed her cloak and sat down in a chair beside the bed.

Even wounded and asleep, Thranduil radiated strength and masculine beauty. His face had more colour than it had the night before and he breathed deeply and evenly.

His tunic was loosened around his neck and had fallen open as he slept, revealing the skin of his collarbone. Her desire rise in her as she looked at him and an image of him kissing her that night in her room flashed in her mind. She quickly looked away.

She spied a strip of leather in the corner covered in teeth marks. Elven medicine was gentle but no patient could be spared of all pain. She exhaled and sank back into her chair.

The King slowly opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling for a moment. Then he looked over to her. She caught the look and sat up.

"My lord, you are awake."

"Do not call me that," his voice was raspy with disuse.

"Thranduil," she amended. "What can I do to make you more comfortable?" Without waiting for his response, she rose and started to pour a crystal goblet of water.

He sighed and shook his head. "You could tell them to stop fawning over me, for a start. Next you could pour out that water and bring me some wine."

She shook her head and looked back at him. "No, do not command it. It would put you in shock."

"As opposed to withdrawal?"

She laughed in spite of herself and Thranduil cracked a small smile. "Do not make me laugh Isobel, its hurts my stomach."

"I'm sorry," she replied, smiling wider as nervous laughter welled up in her, "It's just really good to hear you being so…so..."

He raised an eyebrow.

Suddenly her laughter turned to tears and she hastily wiped her eyes. "I'm sorry," she repeated, "I don't know why I'm laughing and crying…I mean I do, but I shouldn't be when you're laying here injured."

Thranduil eased back into his pillows and regarded her through half-closed eyes. "Isobel, nobody will ever accuse you of tranquility."

She blinked at him, her mouth open in surprise, then giggled softly and nodded, accepting his assessment sheepishly. "Yes, I think you're right."

Thranduil gave her an amused half smile. "Don't worry. I can assure you, it's a nice change from the dour faces of my son and kinsman Celeborn." His face grew serious. "Not that I don't appreciate your brand of entertainment, but I want to talk to you about your...situation. I find myself utterly confounded. One moment we spend the night together and true, while we didn't bond per se, I think that we shared something important, did we not?"

She sat down and stared awkwardly at the carved swirls in the wooden armrest of her chair. Then she looked up at him, noting the tense set of his brow.So much had happened since she had last spoken to him and it hadn't occurred to her that she could hurt him. 

"We did, of course we did."

"I did not consider that you may have had a prior attachment, if that's what Haldir is. I do recall seeing his face among your paintings."

She met his eye. "In truth I have known Haldir for many centuries, although we had not spent time together until that day at the palace. And I...well, that morning, when you walked past me. I didn't think that what happened between us mattered to you."

His brows knit together in a look that resembled something between hurt and anger.

"I was with my staff, Isobel. I know you are not familiar with court life, but my private life is private. For you to discount my feelings as though I have none. As though my actions towards you were meaningless because I didn't stop and talk to you? I don't know to react to that. And tell me, if I had stopped to talk to you, if I had cleared my schedule and been the one to take you hunting, would it have made a difference?"

She stared at him, not sure how to answer. Would it have? Yes. But she couldn't tell him that now. She wouldn't disrespect Haldir in that way. She had made her choice and was determined to honour it.

"Probably not," she lied.

He looked at her intensely and it was Isobel who dropped her eyes first. "I think you have made a mistake," he said softly.

"Can you not be happy for us, Thranduil? May we not part as friends?"

He took a sip of his water and nodded. "You have my sincere congratulations Isobel. Had I known of your mutual interest, I would have encouraged the match," he said formally.

"Thank you," she replied.

There was a long moment of silence.

"Despite his being from Lorien, I think he will take care of you. For what it's worth," Thranduil sighed and looked at her with a sad but sincere smile. "You have the blessing of my house on you both and you shall always have my friendship."

Isobel bit her lip and her eyes filled with grateful tears. Thranduil waved his hand as though to tell her to calm, but she grabbed his hand and kissed it, her head bowed low and her eyes closed, she held it tightly against her cheek.

She finally looked up to see Thranduil's intense blue eyes upon her, his mouth slightly open in surprise and…something else…then, from the corner of her eye she spotted a movement. Both she and Thranduil looked up to see Haldir's tall form watching them. He stood just inside the curtain, his face stamped with pain.

Isobel dropped Thranduil's hand and rose to face him. "Haldir, it's not--"

"My Lord," he cut her off. He instantly arranged his features to convey professional detachment and addressed Thranduil, "Lord Celeborn offers you the use of his secretary during your stay. As you are awake, shall I have him brought to you?"

Thranduil's face remained neutral, his own professional detachment well entrenched. "Thank you Haldir. I find myself suddenly drained. I will welcome the secretary tomorrow, but please do send Legolas."

Haldir offered a smart bow and, without so much as a glance at Isobel, he left the room.

Isobel looked at the King, her eyes wide with fear. "I'm so sorry, I must…I have to…"

Thranduil waved his hand in dismissal. "Away to save your future, Isobel, Daughter of Halir."

She rushed out the room after Haldir. Had she looked back, she would have seen Thranduil watch her with a sad frown.

*****************************************************************

"Haldir," she called, running up behind him. He did not slow his pace and she struggled to catch up with him. "Haldir please!" She grabbed his hand and he whirled around to face her.

"Isobel, stop it, you are making a scene!" he whispered harshly.

"I don't care! It was not what it looked like - he was giving us his blessing. Please believe me!"

He exhaled loudly. He grabbed her wrists and practically dragged her over to a private bench nestled close to a waterfall and away from the main path. "Sit," he commanded.

She bristled, but seeing the pain behind the anger in his eyes, she swallowed her pride and sat down.

Haldir swallowed and turned to look at her. He exhaled again and stared intently at her, slowly shaking his head. Finally he sat down and took her hand.

She glanced at his ashen face and her stomach sank. "Why do you hold my hand?" She tried to pull away and could hear the fear in her voice. His hand tightened around hers.

"I can't do this, Isobel. By the Valar, I love you, but I can't watch you love another in front of me."

Her jaw dropped. "I do not love him, Haldir! I love you, I have always loved you! You must know that,"

He shook his head painfully, and tears welled in his eyes as he looked down at her. "You keep telling me this, but your actions tell me something very different. I have done my best to ignore it since day one but I can't let it go any further. I don't believe you know what you want and I'm sorry, Isobel, but that's not good enough for me. Or for you. We each deserve better."

He looked away, his jaw clenched in a hard line. "I will not compete with another elf for your affections, it is not in my makeup, it is not who I am. YOU are not in my makeup any longer because this relationship is not who I am."

"Haldir - this is...extreme. You know that I am friends with the King - he has been very good to me but to walk away from me for it... I don't understand where this is coming from."

He exhaled and sat forward, his elbows on his knees, ignoring her gaze for the moment.

"On some level, I always knew. It's no secret in Thranduil's halls that you're a favourite of the King."

"A favourite? You do remember my imprisonment, yes? For a month..."

He looked at her with irritation. "Yes, and his removing you to a private room and meeting you on his private patio? Yes, I remember all those things. I thought that you were perhaps infatuated with him and it would fade. But nothing has changed. The way you look at him Isobel, he is never far from your mind, in fact he is quite literally IN your mind, and the way he looked at you today... " He suddenly stood up, clenching his fists, clearly wanting to hit something, anything. But with visible effort he mastered himself and turned back around.

"I should have left him to your uncle and saved you alone!" he said more to himself than to Isobel.

She looked up at him her eyes wide at the thought of it. "But Haldir, you did save me so we could be together, and we CAN be together if you could move past this jealously..."

He walked quickly back towards her. "No Isobel," he said firmly, looking at her intensely. "I am not jealous. I am honest. More honest than you at this moment. I don't know whether you're lying to yourself or just me, but as much as I want to, I can't bring myself to trust you. You question my judgement and think nothing of my feelings."

She looked up at him in shock and despair, tears beginning stream down her face as she realized how serious he was. "Please don't do this, Haldir. I will do anything you wish to prove to you that I love you...but if you leave then you take away my ability to fix this. To be better. Please don't do this..."

He laughed bitterly. "Your ability to do anything... so you would rush to my side if I were injured as you do his? You would connect to my mind as you do his? Would you worry about me as you do him? I cannot imagine it."

"You know I would! I would do more than that for my husband!"

He finally sat back down beside her with a tremendous sigh. "I don't know, Isobel. Maybe it's not just you. This moved very quickly. I think that because your face was so familiar to me that I tricked myself into thinking I actually knew you, but I don't. Anymore than you know me. I think our parting is for the best."

She sat silently, taking it in, trying to register the gravitas of his words. "I knew you were upset but I had no idea this is what you were thinking," she said finally.

"No, I imagine not. You've spent every spare moment attending the King while he slept. You have hardly let him out of your sight these past few days. It is hard to know your fiance's thoughts when you lack the interest to ask."

She was struck silent by the truth of his words. He continued to stare ahead although his jaw trembled and he whispered an elven curse as he valiantly fought to stay composed. He finally rose to leave.

"But Haldir," she asked softly, grabbing his hand as he rose. "Where will I go?"

He looked at her sadly, grimacing at the sight of her teary silver eyes, and pulled his hand back. "Wherever you want, but you can't stay here. I am sorry. I wish you well." He began to walk away, but paused as though ready to turn back to her. Then he took a deep breath and walked away, tears streaming down his cheeks.

She watched him leave, her body itched to chase after him but she stayed on the bench fighting down the sobs that threatened her composure. She could not let this happen - how could he want her to leave? Not truly? He heart sank; looking at it from his point of view, how could he want her to stay? She recognized her carelessness and her impropriety. Haldir was right. On every single point, he was right.

She surrendered. Putting her head in her hands, she allowed the sobs to overtake her.

Long after he'd gone, Isobel raised her head. She'd left her cloak in Thranduil's room, and the air was cool. She knew she should return to the main courtyard to find Tauriel, but facing other elves was the last thing she wanted. She was exhausted and the sun had disappeared beyond the trees and mountain. Her stomach rumbled but she ignored it. When had she last eaten? The night before? It didn't matter, her heart ached and her only desire was to curl into a ball and sleep.

The sound of the gentle waterfall soothed her like a balm. She would seek Haldir out tomorrow and try to repair the damage she'd done. She quietly laid down on the grass in front of the pool and, with a ragged breath, closed her eyes and embraced the darkness.

********************************************************************

Thranduil's eyes flew open. Isobel. She was in pain.

He looked around. The room was shrouded in darkness but for the glow of coals in a small brazier in the corner. Legolas was asleep in a cot beside his own. Poor little Greenleaf, thought Thranduil. His son had fought hard at Dol Guldur and barely left his side since his injury. He tried to sit up on the bed but a spear of pain in his abdomen pushed him back down. Dammit.

"Legolas," Thranduil whispered, trying to rouse him. "Ion nin. Wake up."

Legolas opened his eyes and wearily sat up. "Ada, are you okay?"

Thranduil nodded. "I am fine; it's Isobel. Something is wrong with her. Find her and see that she's safe."

Legolas sat up and furrowed his brow, confused. "Isobel? Ada, we're in Lorien. What could possibly happen to her?"

"I don't know, but I can feel it."

Legolas frowned. The King's connection to the feelings and thoughts of the woods around him was paramount to his kingship. It was not to be ignored. Legolas inwardly sighed and slowly rose.

"You put my heart at ease and I will let you sleep as late as you wish tomorrow."

Legolas snorted. "I'll believe that when I see it."

The King leveled a stony look on him and Legolas' smirk evaporated. "I'll go now."

Thranduil nodded and sat back in his pillow. He felt anxious and cursed his immobility. Whatever had happened, the dark elf was hurting and he would do what he could.

***********************************************************

Legolas walked soft-footed out of the entrance to the healing house and down the steps to the large courtyard. The clearing was empty and dark under the small crescent moon. Legolas spied a soft light just off the path and beyond the trees. He followed its glow towards the sound of a waterfall.

He gracefully turned the corner and stopped. There, sitting on a stone bench, was Galadriel. Below her, asleep on the grass by the waterfall, was Isobel. Galadriel lifted a finger to her lips.

She is safe, said Galadriel inside of Legolas' mind. Tell your father that her heart is broken, but she is young and it will mend. She will rest here tonight.

Legolas stared at the Lady of the Light and offered her a rare smile. He walked back to his father, overcome with a sense of peace.

When he explained to Thranduil what he had seen, he saw his Ada frown, but King's anxiety eased and he fell back into a healing sleep.


	12. Changing Fates

Isobel awoke the next morning feeling surprisingly refreshed. She walked over to the foamy green waterfall and splashed some of the clear water on her face, and sat down on the rocky ledge.

Her heart ached with the thought of how she had hurt Haldir, but at the same time, she felt a sense of renewal. All was not lost. She knew the elves of Lorien would be honouring their march warden today for his role in protecting Lothlorien from Dol Guldur's malice. She would attend the ceremony and speak to him there – she would make him see that she cared only for him. Her parents had, after all, raised her to be a fighter, and was it not right to fight for the ones you loved? 

She cupped her hands and drank the water, feeling its healing properties course through her as an idea began to form in her head. Through the trees she could see elves walking to and fro garbed in lovely airy gowns and silver cloaks.

She looked down at her dirty travel clothes - still covered in dirt, dust and Thranduil's blood  - and ran her hands down her disheveled braids with a sigh. Clearly her filthy worn cloak wasn't going to be what she needed. She cursed her being raised so far apart from other elves all her life. She had never learnt to dress of fix her hair like the elegant creatures who frequented the King's side in Mirkwood.

Tauriel, she thought. Perhaps Tauriel could help her find something more presentable and could fix her hair. With a bracing breath, she headed into the main courtyard to seek Tauriel and see if perhaps Thranduil's lieutenant could work some Elven magic and make Isobel presentable enough that Haldir would be unable to resist her.

And hour later, the two ellith sat on the bed of Tauriel's flet facing each.

"He barely spoke to anyone this morning, so distant did he seem that even Lord Celeborn looked concerned," offered Tauriel.

Isobel bit her lip. "It is all my fault, I did everything wrong. When I should have been with him, my attention was elsewhere. I am so new to all this, Tauriel."

The red headed elf smiled sympathetically. "Isobel, I have something for you. It was delivered today. I sent for it the day of the battle at Dol Guldur when I saw you and Haldir leave the fortress together, and the winged couriers delivered it. I know it was unforgivably presumptuous of me, but I thought you would want Haldir to have it…"

She rose from the bed and retrieved a small cylinder from the corner of the room. "Call me a romantic, but I couldn't help myself…" With a grin she opened it up and pulled out Isobel's portrait of Haldir, one of the many she had painted while in captivity in Mirkwood.

Isobel rose from the bed and gently took it out of Tauriel's hands. It was Haldir as she had spied him through the trees all these years. His face strong yet curious, and his hand raised in greeting. A smile bloomed on her face. "He has never seen it, Tauriel."

"And when he does, how will be able to resist you?"

Moved by Tauriel's kindness and the idea of having a real friend for the first time in her life, Isobel placed the canvas on the bed and embraced Tauriel with heartfelt emotion.

Tauriel hugged her back a bit awkwardly at first, but with a smile accepted Isobel's gesture and finally laughed.

"There is really nothing tranquil about you, Isobel," said Tauriel with a smile. She blinked with surprise when Isobel burst into laughter.

"So they keep telling me," Isobel said.

Tauriel raised an eyebrow but said nothing more as she picked up a brush and started to array Isobel's hair. Looking over at the painting and the shimmering emerald gown hanging on a hook against the wall, Isobel felt a surge of hope that perhaps it would all work out after all.

* * *

A few hours later the elves of Lothlorien gathered in the main courtyard.

Normally the ceremony would have been held high in Galadriel and Celeborn's Great Hall, but in honour of the wounded King, who was still unable to climb such a distance, it made sense to hold the ceremony under in a more accessible venue.

Isobel stood close to Tauriel in the crowd of elves that had gathered to watch Haldir be honoured by his Lord and Lady. She clutched the rolled up canvas in her hands while doing her best to appear elegantly passive.

Inside she felt everything _but_ passive. In fact, she couldn't decide how she felt. For the first time she could see the effect of her beauty on others, yet she also felt shyly conspicuous and missed her travel cloak.

With Tauriel's help (and the help of a few Lorien ellith), Isobel was gloriously arrayed in an iridescent emerald grown. Her long sable hair gleamed like a moonlit river and her luminous eyes were the wonder of all the elves present.

When she spotted Thranduil and Legolas sitting to the right of a stone dais, she almost turned around to leave.

"Isobel," whispered Tauriel. "You are staying!"

"I look like a painted bird, everyone can see through me, I'm sure of it!" she whispered back.

Tauriel shook her head. "You can stop worrying about what they think of you; they're too busy worrying what _you think of them!_ Courage, Isobel."

Isobel exhaled and smiled demurely at a group of Galadhrim standing near them, noting how smartly they were dressed. She felt terribly insecure and wondered what Haldir would look like. She was anxious to glimpse his brothers. Haldir had spoken fondly of them during their hike to the Anduin the week before. She didn't have to wait long.

Accompanied by the melodic chords of an Elven choir, a lone soprano voice rang out through the golden leaves of Lothlorien. The elves parted and gracefully, through the crowded courtyard, stepped Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn.

As the soprano's silken voice told the tale of the brave Galadhrim warriors of old, the two slowly made their way up to the dais, graciously nodding at their subjects. Isobel inhaled with surprise and felt her heart lift as Galadriel smiled at her. The Lady's blue eyes looked in to her, rather than at her, and Isobel felt herself filled with light.

She turned her head towards the dais where Thranduil sat, his eyes resting unwaveringly on her. 'Are you well dark one?' He asked inside her head. She smiled at him. 'Better than you, I think,' she replied. She saw him suppress a smile, then her attention was drawn to the side of the dais where Haldir and his brothers had entered the courtyard.

Her breath caught. She had never seen him formally attired. He wore a blue robe with silver flourish and his silver blonde hair gleamed in the bright winter sun. His brothers Rúmil and Orophin were on either side and she stared at them curiously. They looked like their brother although Rumil was more slender and Orophin darker of complexion.

Galadriel and Celeborn greeted Thranduil with smiles and clasped hands. Even Thranduil was softened by the light that emanated from Galadriel. She stared at the King intently and Isobel saw him look down with a nod, before again meeting her gaze. Legolas bowed reverently, and smiled. As the last haunting echoes of the soprano drifted over the crowd, the Lord and Lady stood before all of Lorien.

Lord Celeborn began.

"Long has Greenwood the Great been a haven to all Elven kind. Yet a shadow has fallen upon us of late, both our cousins in Mirkwood and our brethren in Lothlorien have felt its presence. Today we celebrate the restoration of goodness to those lands beyond our borders and we honour he who destroyed that which would destroy us. Haldir o Lorien, Captain of the March Wardens, step forward now."

Haldir stepped forward and knelt before Celeborn.

"Is it but for you, brave warrior of Lothlorien, that we stand here today, free of the threat of tyranny, in the presence of my kinsman, the noble King of the Woodland Realm. Today we bestow upon you our gratitude and our blessings. May your name forever mean sacrifice, glory and friendship. Rise and take your thanks."

Haldir rose and clasped hands first with Celeborn then bowed to Galadriel who also reached for his hands and whispered kind words into his ear. With a smile he bowed again and walked over to Thranduil, who stood painfully, but was clearly determined to honour the elf who had saved his life. Haldir knelt in front of Thranduil who bade him rise and, with his hand to his heart, thanked the march warden with sincere gratitude.

Galadriel picked up a delicate bow with a golden bowstring that had been resting on a stone beside her and passed it to Celeborn who stepped forward. Haldir turned back to his Lord and Lady who each smiled at him.

"We would ask that you accept this bow that once belonged to Amroth, its golden string will bring you glory and wisdom in battle."

Haldir accepted the gift with a proud smile and finally turned to face his people who let out a mighty cheer and chanted his name. Haldir left the dais and was immediately surrounded by well wishers and friends.

Tauriel put her hand behind Isobel's back and gave her a not so gentle push into the crowd. "Go Isobel! Now!"

Isobel moved forward and pushed her way through the crowd as gently as she could without making a scene. As Haldir turned to shake hands and embrace more of his people, he caught sight of Isobel and his face fell. The elves around him looked at her curiously and parted to let her through. Holding her chin up, she walked towards him, then curtsied low, offering him up the rolled canvas.

"In thanks for saving my life," she finally looked up at him.

She was not aware that the crowd had gone silent, nor that Galadriel had given Celeborn a meaningful look as they silently watched. Only Thranduil looked away.

Haldir reached out and took the painting. "You have no need to thank me, Isobel Daughter of Halir, but I appreciate your gift." He unraveled the painting and his mouth opened when he saw the portrait of himself on the canvas. He finally noticed that Isobel was still lowered. He offered her his hand and she straightened. "I painted it in Mirkwood, even before you arrived."

He stared at her. "I will treasure it always, but it changes nothing. Good bye, Isobel."

Isobel watched him as he was led away by friends and family impatient to begin the festivities. Look back at me, she silently willed him. Look back at me Haldir… But he did not look back and she stood alone as the crowd closed back in around her, feeling the finality of his goodbye in her bones.

She looked around for Tauriel but couldn't spy the red-headed guard anywhere. She needed to get out of this crowd quickly and tamped down a feeling of claustrophobia. She turned in a circle looking for the fastest way out, and spied Legolas making his way through the crowd toward her. Despite her deep disappointment at Haldir's dismissal, she forced herself to smile, for indeed she was relieved to see the Prince.

"If you are not inclined to partake in the festivities, my father invites you to dine with him," he said.

She looked up over at Thranduil who offered her a distant nod. Her eyes turned back to Legolas with a grateful smile. "Yes, I'd be happy to join you both, thank you."

"Only my father, Mistress, I am inclined to participate in the dancing."

Isobel's smile softened as she looked at the handsome elf, so much like his father. "Of course you are. Worry not, I will keep him company for you."

Legolas returned the smile and, gallantly offering her his arm, led her through the crowd and up the wide path to the elegant lower flet that Thranduil now occupied.

* * *

Ten minutes later, Haldir found himself at the side of the courtyard where his brothers greeted him with playful insults.

The rest of the elves were now making their way to tents filled with food and music.

Haldir looked back to where Isobel had stood, but she was gone. He felt a stab of regret. She had clearly made great efforts to dress for him and the gift had moved him, yet he had dismissed her callously in front of the others. It was insensitive and truth be told, he already missed the beautiful dark elf with her strange ways. He knew he was jealous. The question was, had he acted in haste? Only time could tell...

It had taken much courage for her to stand in front of his people and offer him the portrait despite his words to her the night before. A portrait she had painted during her imprisonment, from memory. Perhaps he had underestimated her feelings for him after all. He shook his head, dispelling the thought for time being. All he knew was that he had not lied when he said he would treasure it, for he knew there was none like her in all of Arda.

* * *

"Well, young Isobel, that was quite a display."

Isobel accepted the wine that Thranduil offered her and took a large swallow. The King raised an eyebrow but said nothing, he merely refilled her glass.

"It doesn't matter, it didn't work. He barely looked at me." She leaned back in her chair and frowned.

"Come my dear, you are beautiful today. Your efforts should not be wasted. While I am no March Warden of Lorien, I hope you do not find my company entirely deplorable?"

With great effort she resisted the urge to roll her eyes, but she did allow a smile to penetrate her sad face. "Of course not, King Thranduil, when you are not throwing me in your dungeon, you can be quite pleasant."

"Well, at least you haven't lost your wit along with your heart. What will you do now?"

She lifted a fork full of salmon to her mouth and ate slowly while she built up the courage to answer his question. "I was thinking that, with your permission, I could return to Mirkwood. I have become friends with Tauriel and even Feren whose wife looked after my paintings…"

Thranduil put down his fork and looked at her seriously. "Isobel, do you think it would be wise for you to return to Mirkwood?"

She looked at him from across the table, her face a question. "What do you mean?"

"You made no secret of your -now broken- engagement to Haldir, nor of your feelings towards him. Nor did you make a secret of your concern for me these last few days. Should you return to Mirkwood immediately, talk would shift to another attachment and I fear that you would not be looked upon kindly. In fact, it would serve to reinforce many of the elves' fears about your, shall we say, moral compass, in light of your relations."

"An attachment to you?"

"For example."

Her eyes darkened at his words and she felt a flame of rebellion kindle in her spine. "What do I care about what others think? Have I not survived all this time without the approval of the Elven realms? I am an outsider – I have always been. I do not care what others think…" her voice faltered as he stared at her, challenging her.

"Perhaps when I first met you, Isobel. But even now?"

She exhaled and her shoulders sagged for a moment before she remembered herself and sat up.

"I don't know what I think anymore," she said with heart breaking honesty. "I don't even recognize myself anymore. These clothes and the way we talk – it's so different. I still want to go home, I miss my forest dreadfully, and even now – to be so close to it - but I don't want to be _alone_ anymore. For the first time I know what it means to feel a part of something and I would give up Fangorn for it. Please Thranduil, can I not return to Mirkwood with you?"

Thranduil looked at her in silence for a full minute, she wilted under his intense stare, then he sat back against his chair. "Isobel, you are such a child. I know exactly what happened between you and Haldir, but I cannot bring myself to truly feel badly for you. You never loved him, Isobel, you loved _the idea_ of him. You loved the security he offered you. He knew it, and thus he could not trust you, so he let you go. It was a smart course of action. Now you wish to live in Mirkwood. But again, you think only of yourself. Not a thought to whether or not I would _want_ you there."

Isobel's eyes widened in shock. "But why would you not want me? I thought you cared for me…"

Rather than the kind words Isobel expected, the King laughed bitterly.

She looked him full in the face for the first time that evening. She noticed the smudges under his eyes and the lines of stress on his face. His eyes, for once unguarded, were not angry; with a jolt in her stomach, she realized they were anguished.  

"It is always such a great shock to you," he said, his voice rising and his eyes flashing. "To learn that perhaps there are more than one set of emotions to consider. _You spent the night with me!"_

Her mouth fell open, whatever she had been expecting of him, it was not this. 

He rose and started to pace the room. Isobel pressed herself against the back of her chair, half flinching from the sudden and unexpected surge of venom directed at her, half by way of considering her next move. He didn't notice.  

"You let me kiss you and hold you, and worse, you returned my affection. Do you think I do this every day? That I have a string of lovers? I opened myself to you as I have no other, and yet, _within weeks,_ you declared yourself to someone else! I was out in the forest trying to protect my people, to protect YOU, and next thing I know I'm on my deathbed and you're asking for my blessing on your marriage!" He slammed his fist down the table and Isobel jumped.

He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, struggling to recover his composure. He finally opened his eyes and, with both hands on the table, he leveled a fierce look on her. "I promised you my friendship, and I will hold true to that, but right now, you need to go home. To Fangorn."

The intensity of Thranduil's emotion hit her like a blow to the stomach, simultaneously knocking the wind out her and igniting her own fury. In the span of an instant, her mind replayed her parting moments with Haldir, the image of her uncle's death, and the feel of Feren's ropes around her wrists.

Her anger surged and, this time, she embraced it.

She rose, upsetting her goblet of wine. She immediately felt the blood leave her head and put her hands on the table to steady herself. Thranduil motioned to help her but she leveled a dark gaze on him that stopped him in his tracks.

"Do not touch me!" she hissed, meeting his passion with equal intensity. "This is all because of YOU. YOU imprisoned me, YOU refused to let me leave even when you KNEW I was innocent. I was practically at the border when you forced me back!"

" _Forced you?_ Are you mad? You came _willingly_ because you wanted to! Because whatever you had told yourself, deep down you wanted ME!"

"I wanted YOU? YOU are the one who is mad. You told me that you loved me, but wouldn't marry me, or maybe you would, or who knows what your feelings would have been in the next hour! One moment you're all over me the next you treat me as though I'm invisible. You're angry that I choose Haldir over you! Over the _nothingness_ that you promised me! That I chose Haldir over a volatile old King who has nothing in his heart but disdain and arrogance!"

Thranduil's face drained of colour, his mouth opened in shock. He turned his head from side to side with incredulity, but he was too wounded to parry the blow. "You don't have the first inkling of what's inside of me or what I feel!" His voice had lowered, but she swung again.

"You are right, because nobody gets to see that! Nobody gets to see what's inside the 'Great Thranduil of the Woodland Realm.' You are closed off - so careful and calculating! I wonder if there really is anything behind this great facade you have built?! One would question if you even have a heart?"

It was enough.   

In a single fluid motion he crossed the room and grabbed her arm, bending it behind her, forcing her to arch away from him as he bent over her, enraged, his eyes dark with violent anger. She did not shrink back from him. She strained against him, not to escape him, rather to return his attack. Their eyes locked and they stared at each other for a heartbeat, then two. Her chest heaved and her anger fortified her. She wanted to hurt him. Desperately. Finally Thranduil lowered his face to hers and, staring straight in her eyes, his lips almost touching hers, he whispered "get out" and pushed her away.


	13. Fangorn

Isobel headed out early the next morning. She had slept in restlessly in Tauriel's flet, spending much of the night listening to her friend's deep even breathing. While the moon was still out, even before the sky had brightened in promise of the dawn, her friend had helped her pack a travel bag and embraced her with feeling.

"Your journey doesn't end here, we will see each other again, I feel it in my in heart," Tauriel had said as she walked Isobel to the edge of the city gates.

A young Lorien guard whose name she did not know, graciously led her to the borders. He was quiet and, short of shy smiles and the barest of small talk, he remained silent. But Isobel appreciated the quiet. It gave her time to think.

When she had tread this path only a few days before, things had been so different. She had looked forward to a future in Lorien at Haldir's side. Now she travelled the familiar route by herself, and not by choice. Well, not completely alone, she thought as she gratefully regarded her guide.

The sky began to brighten and she took stock of her situation.

To her surprise she realized that she did not feel sad anymore, nor did she feel guilty or even ill-used. She was simply tired. She reflected on Thranduil's words about her only wanting Haldir for the security he offered. Damn him, he was always stabbing at th e heart of the matter regardless of how much it hurt.

She took a deep breath and lifted her chin as she followed the guard, up the ridge that overlooked the city, and down the other side through thick brush, south past the River Celebrant.

She had confided to Tauriel how lovely it would be to again live the life of a simple wood elf in her fresh, clean forest. To not have to worry about others' expectations.

"But is not the expectations of those who love us that inspire us to be better?" Tauriel had asked.

It struck her as ironic that one elf had left her because she had not been honest enough, while the other had left her because she'd been too honest, so perhaps now was the time to live the way she felt was best for her own reasons.

"I am glad to return home," she said aloud surprising the young elf in front of her who jumped at the unexpected sound of her voice. The guard looked back at her with a small smile.

"Of course mistress," he replied. "We elves have always made sacred our homes. Have you heard the trees talk?" he asked with shy curiosity.

Isobel nodded yes and the young elf shook his head in wonder. They walked on for hours in companionable silence, until finally, as the dawn was breaking the next day, Isobel took leave of her guide.

She stood at the edge of the forest and, one last time, searched her mind for the thread that linked her and Thranduil and found it had vanished. Her heart sank. Even now she had taken for granted that he was with her, but indeed she was well and truly alone.

With a deep breath, she turned her face south in the direction of Fangorn and welcomed the day as she headed out across the field that led to her forest.

* * *

_18 Months Later_

Isobel adored springtime in Fangorn. The forest floor was blanketed in white and blue flowers. Clean cool water flowed from the mountains creating delicate silvery streams that nourished the trees and medicine life. The animals around her shook off their winter malaise and hungrily feasted on the new grass and leaves.

Everywhere she looked she saw the beating heart of Yavanna. Insects chased each other with sensual choreography and birds sang to their partners and babies. It seemed that Isobel was the only creature in the forest without a mate, but she was far from melancholy.

She could look back at the autumn she'd spent north with newfound perspective. She had loved both elves honestly, but had treated each carelessly. She knew that now. But she neither berated nor lamented her actions. She had been taken far from the life she'd known and done her best to adapt to a new environment. While she was not without regret, particularly in terms of the pain she'd inflicted, she respected the desires of both partners to live without her.

She had struggled with the black reputation of her family and even now she wondered about her uncle from time to time. But Haldir had helped her to see that it was natural to wonder about her family and that it did not mean her own heart was malicious. She was grateful to him for freeing her mind of this worry, and for teaching her that she was worthy of love.

And finally, despite her distance from Lorien, she felt a sense of belonging. Galadriel's smile had warmed her soul and awakened a sense of power within her. Power to live her life without worrying what others thought and to simply feel a part of life both in Fangorn and in the elven realms. For the first time in her life, she felt that she was enough.

She knew she wouldn't stay in Fangorn forever, but for now, she was happy to just BE, and to exist alongside the other forest creatures, the trees and the waterfalls.

She walked along a deer path that led over a ridge of trees. It had rained and the forest was shrouded in a soft mist that sparkled like diamonds in the rare sunbeams that penetrated the tree tops. She carried an armful of fresh watercress, dripping down her dress.

She had used the cottage throughout her first winter after returning from Lorien and found that after her stay in Mirkwood, she liked the security of four walls, and so she remained there throughout the seasons, although on particularly hot nights, she still took to the ancient flets to sleep naked among the cool green of the upper canopy.

But the truly hot days of summer were at least another month away and there was a slight chill in the air. As she walked she hummed a pretty elven song that the Mirkwood soldiers had taught her on their march from Dol Guldur to Lorien. It reminded her of something her mother used to sing when she was an elfling.

She happily threaded her way down rocks made slippery by the rain, and softly leapt onto the cottage path below. Suddenly a flock of birds ascended from the trees nearby and she froze, listening carefully, straining her eyes to detect movement.

She crept off the path and up another slight ridge that overlooked her home. Keeping low, she crawled up the embankment and peered over. Had it been later in the season, the thick brush would have obscured her view, but the trees had not yet filled in and she had a clear view of the front of her cottage.

There he rested, on a large rock about 30 feet from the front entrance.

Dressed in green and grey hunting clothes, he sat casually with one knee to his chest and the other dangled down. He leaned back into the sun with a smile and his silver blonde braids shone. He had placed his bow on the ground and the sun caught on the metal sword around his waist.

Her breath caught as he removed his boots and sword, and wiggled his long toes, clearly enjoying the feel of the cool stone under them. She smiled. So he planned to stay awhile. She tilted her head to the side as she studied him. He looked so young, so happy – his face free of worry. The time apart had done him well, as it had her.

She stood up and began to make her way down the hill towards him. Alerted by the sound of her footsteps, he turned around and his face broke into a wide smile.

They stood staring at each other, drinking the other in.

"I see you've brought lunch," he said, his eyes taking in her wild hair and short white chiton, and finally resting on the watercress in her arms.

"I thought you'd be hungry," she returned as though she had seen him every day of the last 18 months. But her glistening eyes gave her away.

He bit his lip as though trying to hold something inside, but he shook his head as though it was no use and finally opened up. "I couldn't do it Isobel. Nothing has felt right since you left. You brought a light into my life, and since you've been gone, the days have been long and grey." Here he paused to take a ragged breath and run his hand through his hair. "I was unforgivably cruel to you when you needed me most, and I am so sorry." He bowed his head then looked up at her through thick lashes, his eyes pleading with her to accept him.

She stepped forward, wanting to comfort him but feeling suddenly shy and uncertain of what to do. "No," she shook her head, smiling despite his intensity. "I needed to hear it, all of it. You were right about everything. It is I who am sorry for hurting you as I did."

They looked at each other awkwardly and there was an air of embarrassment between them until finally he spoke. "Well, that is a great relief," he gave her an almost shy smile. "I had worried about coming here alone - leaving my host behind – in case you were still mad at me."

She broke out into relieved laughter.

He took a step forward, his chiseled mouth taking up the humour in his eyes. "Permission to approach the enemy please my lady?"

With happy tears in her eyes she nodded affirmatively and, leaving the past fully behind, she stepped forward into Thranduil's solid arms.

"Come back to Mirkwood," he whispered between kisses. "Be my wife, my queen, I swear to you Isobel, I have such feeling within me, if you would only let me show you…marry me meleth nin."

"Of course I will return with you," she replied through tears and kisses. "I will always return to you, Thranduil, for so long as you want me…" She laughed again, nestling her forehead in the curve of his neck and he chuckled softly, wiping her tears away with his hand.

"I have missed you Dark Elf of Fangorn. Leave this life behind you and become my Dark Elf of Greenwood. Live as you wish, provided you live by my side."

She silenced him with another kiss.

* * *

Four days later, they walked together through the paths of Fangorn, while Thranduil told Isobel stories of when his father taught the trees to talk. Eventually they emerged into a field of silken tents, soldiers and horses. King Thranduil's host greeted him warmly, happy to see him safely back in their midst.

"You were not joking about you host behind?" she asked, her eyes wide with astonishment.

Thranduil laughed openly, then looked at her. "I never joke about these things," he said with mock formality but he could not contain his smile and bent over to give her an impromptu kiss. "This time you will arrive in Mirkwood as a Queen arriving to greet her people!"

He suddenly leapt onto a rock and shouted to his troops "Three cheers for Isobel of Fangorn who, on this day, will be known as the Queen of Mirkwood!"

He offered her is hand and, with a becoming dark blush on her cheeks, she stepped up beside him and this time, amidst his boisterously cheering host, _she_ kissed _him_.


	14. Expanded/Alternate Ending

_This alternate ending was written in response to Spellweaver10's comment that the original ending seemed rushed. I wondered, as per their comments, if the story would work better with a longer ending? After writing this ending, I admit that I prefer the shorter one, although perhaps this version ties up some loose ends you may have been wondering about. Really just emotional background which, sometimes, a story can do without and not suffer all that much for the loss. Let me know which ending you prefer? Its' a useful little experiment! Thanks dear readers :)_

_-QBS_

* * *

_18 Months Later_

Isobel adored springtime in Fangorn. The forest floor was blanketed in white and blue flowers. Clean cool water flowed from the mountains creating delicate silvery streams that nourished the trees and medicine life. The animals around her shook off their winter malaise and hungrily feasted on the new grass and leaves.

Everywhere she looked she saw the beating heart of Yavanna. Insects chased each other with sensual choreography and birds sang to their partners and babies. It seemed that Isobel was the only creature in the forest without a mate, but she was far from melancholy.

She could look back at the autumn she'd spent north with newfound perspective. She had loved both elves honestly, but had treated each carelessly. She knew that now. But she neither berated nor lamented her actions. She had been taken far from the life she'd known and done her best to adapt to a new environment. While she was not without regret, particularly in terms of the pain she'd inflicted, she respected the desires of both partners to live without her.

She had struggled with the black reputation of her family and even now she wondered about her uncle from time to time. But Haldir had helped her to see that it was natural to wonder about her family and that it did not mean her own heart was malicious. She was grateful to him for freeing her mind of this worry, and for teaching her that she was worthy of love.

And finally, despite her distance from Lorien, she felt a sense of belonging. Galadriel's smile had warmed her soul and awakened a sense of power within her. Power to live her life without worrying what others thought and to simply feel a part of life both in Fangorn and in the elven realms. For the first time in her life, she felt that she was enough.

She knew she wouldn't stay in Fangorn forever, but for now, she was happy to just BE, and to exist alongside the other forest creatures, the trees and the waterfalls.

She walked along a deer path that led over a ridge of trees. It had rained and the forest was shrouded in a soft mist that sparkled like diamonds in the rare sunbeams that penetrated the tree tops. She carried an armful of fresh watercress, dripping down her dress.

She had used the cottage throughout her first winter after returning from Lorien and found that after her stay in Mirkwood, she liked the security of four walls, and so she remained there throughout the seasons, although on particularly hot nights, she still took to the ancient flets to sleep naked among the cool green of the upper canopy.

But the truly hot days of summer were at least another month away and there was a slight chill in the air. As she walked she hummed a pretty elven song that the Mirkwood soldiers had taught her on their march from Dol Guldur to Lorien. It reminded her of something her mother used to sing when she was an elfling.

She happily threaded her way down rocks made slippery by the rain, and softly leapt onto the cottage path below. Suddenly a flock of birds ascended from the trees nearby and she froze, listening carefully, straining her eyes to detect movement.

She crept off the path and up another slight ridge that overlooked her home. Keeping low, she crawled up the embankment and peered over. Had it been later in the season, the thick brush would have obscured her view, but the trees had not yet filled in and she had a clear view of the front of her cottage.

There he rested, on a large rock about 30 feet from the front entrance.

Dressed in green and grey hunting clothes, he sat casually with one knee to his chest and the other dangled down. He leaned back into the sun with a smile and his silver blonde braids shone. He had placed his bow on the ground and the sun caught on the metal sword around his waist.

Her breath caught as he removed his boots and sword, and wiggled his long toes, clearly enjoying the feel of the cool stone under them. She smiled. So he planned to stay awhile. She tilted her head to the side as she studied him. He looked so young, so happy – his face free of worry. The time apart had done him well, as it had her.

She stood up and began to make her way down the hill towards him. Alerted by the sound of her footsteps, he turned around and his face broke into a wide smile.

They stood staring at each other, drinking the other in.

"I see you've brought lunch," he said, his eyes taking in her wild hair and short white chiton, and finally resting on the dripping watercress in her arms.

"I thought you'd be hungry," she returned as though she had seen him every day of the last 18 months. But her glistening eyes gave her away.

He bit his lip. Was he trying to hold something inside? Then he shook his head - it was no use- and finally opened up. "I couldn't do it, Isobel. Nothing has felt right since you left. You brought a light into my life, and since you've been gone, the days have been long and grey." Here he paused to take a ragged breath and run his hand through his hair. "I was unforgivably cruel to you when you needed me most, and I am so sorry." He bowed his head then looked up at her through thick lashes, his eyes earnestly pleading with her to accept him.

She stepped forward, wanting to comfort him but feeling suddenly shy and uncertain of what to do. "No," she shook her head, smiling despite his intensity. "I needed to hear it, all of it. You were right about everything. It is I who am sorry for hurting you as I did."

They looked at each other awkwardly and there was an air of embarrassment between them until finally he spoke. "Well, that is a great relief," he gave her an almost shy smile. "I had worried about coming here alone - leaving my host behind – in case you were still mad at me."

She broke out into relieved laughter.

He took a step forward, his chiseled mouth taking up the humour in his eyes. "Permission to approach the enemy please my lady?"

Happy tears stood on her lashes. Without another thought she dropped the watercress and stepped forward into Thranduil's waiting arms.

"I think we have a lot talk about," he murmured into her hair, his arms tightening around her. She smiled in response, rubbing her cheek against his tunic and inhaling his scent deeply. Nothing felt as good as being in his embrace. Nothing felt more natural. How she had missed him! His hand pressed softly on her lower back, almost tentatively, pulling her hips into him and a fierce longing rose in her belly. Her heart began to race. Not yet, she told herself. Take your time. With a deep breath, she stepped back and looked up at him, taking in impossibly blue eyes framed with dark brows. He looked down at her with such desire that it was all she could do to not rub herself against the length of his warm body like a cat, but she ignored the urge and instead offered him a wry smile.

"Yes, I suppose we do. Come inside."

The King was still for a moment, his eyes languidly traveled down the length of her body and back up finally meeting her gaze with a quirk of a smile that sent a shiver down Isobel's back. A single eyebrow slightly raised, he nodded. "After you."

They passed through to the small cottage and Thranduil sat down gracefully at the small wooden table while Isobel dropped a handful of dried flowers in a kettle of water and placed it in the fireplace to boil.

The silver haired king looked around with an amused smile.

"It's not a palace," Isobel said wryly and sat down on the other side of the table.

"No, it not," he agreed, "but it suits you. Your rusticity."

She chuckled softly and nodded, her gaze taking in the dried herbs hanging from the ceiling, the mess of sketches and paintings strewn around, and the white cotton sheeted cot in the corner with its gauzy netting and soft pillows. She tried to see it from his perspective. Compared to the glamour of Thranduil's Halls, it was rustic indeed, and she was suddenly embarrassed.

"If I were free to do as I pleased I would live just like this," he said suddenly and she stilled, smiling quietly as she gazed outside the cottage window. Leave it to Thranduil to know exactly how she was feeling.

Feeling more relaxed, she returned to the table and sat down. Her eyes met his and the two elves grew quiet as the time spent apart began to reassert itself. Finally, Isobel looked away and Thranduil cleared his throat. Then he leaned forward and rested his strong hand over her own, bridging some of the emotional distance.

"I have come to see how you are and to ask you some questions."

She inhaled deeply, at first trying ignore the warm energy that flowed from his hand through to hers, but realizing with a small smile that perhaps she didn't need to ignore it at all. Why else would he be here if not to declare himself? Perhaps she could embrace it, embrace him as a partner and a lover, just as he had said the night of her escape...

Stop it, Isobel, you are way ahead of yourself here, she thought. Focus on what's happening and assume nothing. It had, after all, been a long time.

He watched her patiently until finally she spoke.

"I am well, thank you."

He raised a disbelieving brow.

She blinked and offered a small smile. "Well, I am well _now_. At first it was very hard. I missed Lothlorien and Mirkwood. I was angry, and ashamed, and lonely. I would have given anything to be welcomed back." She noted the hard set of his jaw and recognized it for what it was: a rare exhibit of guilt. Although she now understood that it wasn't the guilt that was rare, merely Thranduil's revealing it. She leaned forward. "No, Thranduil, do not feel badly – you did the right thing. It was hard, my coming back alone, but the peace of the forest soothed me and helped me to sort through that strange autumn. I was very confused and very foolish. I acted like a child towards all of you. I couldn't see it then, but I see it now."

He smiled sympathetically. "Do not let your thoughts linger on hindsight, Isobel. You have suffered once already. No need to suffer twice. I think that, had I been more detached, I could have recognized your behaviour for what it was: naivety and culture shock at being thrown into life at court, and rebellion at going from a life under the canopy of trees to a confined cell. But it would seem that, with you, I am utterly incapable of detachment."

He held her gaze for a long moment and he did not look away until the kettle began to sing. Isobel rose quickly to pour the tea.

"Isobel, would you happen to have anything stronger?"

She lifted the kettle from the fire and placed it on the counter to cool. Then she quirked a smile in his direction and reached for the flagon of wine in the corner, poured two glasses, and returned to the table.

"Perhaps not the quality you're used to."

"It's all in the company, my dear." He swirled the glass and took a long sip. "And Haldir?"

Her head shot up. "I have not seen him," she said quickly.

He cocked his head and regarded her carefully. "I know that. I wondered how you feel about him now."

She looked away, her cheeks colouring slightly. "I feel regret for mistreating him, for misunderstanding my own feelings towards him. I don't think I will ever stop regretting that. I did love him, and perhaps had things been different, had I not met you... but I did meet you, and I do not wish there had been another outcome, if that's what you wonder."

He snorted quietly and looked away with a wry smile. "I suppose it is," he admitted. He swirled the ruby liquid in his glass and let out a heavy breath. "I am glad that you do not pine for him. However right his justification, I cannot forgive his hurting you." His voice took on a steely edge.

"That sounds almost irrational," she said with a serious face although her stomach jumped with an unbearable lightness at his protectiveness.

His face broke into a grin and he shook his head. "Indeed, I blame your influence, Mistress Fangorn."

She returned his smile and to her surprise, he began to look nervous. His fingers mindlessly traced the scar on his cheek, and he glanced back down to his wine, taking a deep breath before speaking.

She understood that this was a vulnerable side of the King few had ever seen. Perhaps his son had, perhaps Tira, but she was certain none else. Her heart swelled with love for him and a feminine desire to comfort him and soothe the raw edges of his loneliness. She placed her free hand in lap to remind herself to stay seated, quiet, and to hear him out. He looked up at her with a heartbreakingly sad smile.

"I too have regrets, Isobel. When you left Lothlorien, you had wanted to return to Mirkwood and I ungraciously refused you. I was angry, bitterly angry, at your relationship with Haldir, and that, despite it, I could not let you go. We left Lothlorien only a few days after your departure. Once back in the Kingdom, I tried to forget you, but everything reminded me of you. I knew that my son was upset you had not returned with us – that I had refused your request - and his upset cut deeply for it was the other edge of a knife I myself had sharpened. Then one day, I was walking down the hall from the stables - you will recall there is a row of paintings, I remember you admiring them on your return to Mirkwood that night." She nodded. "On the wall was a new painting, a great white stag. It was the one you had been working on that day. The day you escaped like a wild animal and I had to retrieve you. After that, I began to see your paintings everywhere. It seems that my son was determined that I not forget my rashness. But it was a point well-taken. I had been home but a month and I knew I had to return for you."

She furrowed her brow. "But that was...how long ago?"

"16 months and one week past,"

She shook her head slowly. "But why wait so long? I would have received you…"

He leaned forward. "I knew you needed time to heal and work through your experiences, Isobel. Face your family history, work through the horrible death of your uncle-" she winced slightly and he touched her hand. "I am sorry to raise it. I knew you needed time to think about what you really wanted, my giving you that time was the only way I could be sure of your answer."

Hope surged in her chest. "Answer to what?"

He took a deep breath. "What I really came all this way to ask you is if you'd still like to return to Mirkwood. I know much time has passed, and I cannot assume that—"

"Yes! Yes of course Thanduil! And I shall have your friendship again?"

He chucked and shook his head. Then he sat back in his chair and took a long drink of wine. Isobel noticed a slight tremble in his hand. He abruptly rose and walked across the room to look at a painting on the wall. He smiled, recognizing the scene as the front entrance to his halls. Then turned back to the table, his face deceptively calm, although Isobel sensed a current of emotion under the façade. He remained standing and tilted his chin a fraction, his kingly countenance fully intact.

She looked up at him and was reminded of the first time she had met him on the dias. Even in a tiny cottage, Thranduil's presence was profound.

"Isobel, I forget how little you know of society. I am a King, and I have no need to travel this far to secure a mere friendship. My interests here go much deeper.

She rose. The scrappy fighter within her needed to meet him on equal ground. "Your "interests"?"

His face softened and his chin lowered. He extended his hand and, when she took it, her drew her close to him.

"Come back to Mirkwood," he said, searching her face. "Be my wife, my queen, I swear to you Isobel, I have such feeling within me, if you would only let me show you…" To her astonishment, he lifted her hand to his heart. "Marry me, meleth nin."

She pulled away. "But… you said you cannot remarry."

He pulled her back to him. "I can do whatever I want, and I want this. Marry me."

Tears stood on her lashes as his words sunk in and she looked into his earnest face. Suppressing a combination of laughter and tears, she nodded and he embraced her joyfully, his own eyes brimming.

"Of course I will return with you," she replied through tears and kisses. "I will always return to you, Thranduil, for so long as you want me…" She laughed again, nestling her forehead in the curve of his neck and he chuckled softly, wiping her tears away with his hand.

"And marry me?" he clarified, taking nothing for granted.

She grinned and kissed him. "How about one step at a time?"

"No Isobel, daughter of Halir from the House of Eol. We have each waited long enough. It is time for you to surrender to what is being offered. Let me be your friend," he kissed her jaw, "your partner," his lips moved up to her temple, "your lover," he kissed her forehead, "and your husband," his tongue traced her bottom lip coaxing a sigh from her. "Surrender to me, meleth-nin. Be my wife. Say it now."

She paused, her mind spinning from the touch of his lips and the proximity of his warm body. Was she still fighting the big fight? Battling attachment at every turn? Her actions and words may be more gentile than they'd been two years ago, but he was right. He had come back for her twice now, he may not do so again. If anyone was most deserving of her surrender, it was this beautiful warrior king standing in front of her. All she had to do was find the courage to take the risk. She took a deep, stabilizing breath, then looked up him, her gaze open and unwavering. Leaving her past fully behind, she smiled and said 'yes'.

Within moments, Thranduil was embracing her, showering her face and neck with passionate kisses that she joyfully returned. "I have missed you Dark Elf of Fangorn. As of this moment, you are my Dark Elf of Greenwood. Live as you wish, provided you live by my side."

She silenced him with another kiss.


End file.
